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MEMOIR 



ROBERT TROUP PAINE. 



HIS PARENTS. 






" Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth, while the evil days come not, 
nor the years draw nigh, when thou shalt say, I have no pleasure in them." — Eccles. xn. 
1.— (Page 81.) 

"From a child thou hast known the Holy Scriptures, which are able to make thee 
wise unto salvation through faith which is in Christ Jesus." — 2 Timothy nx 15. 



PRINTED FOR PRIVATE DISTRIBUTION, ESPECIALLY FOR THE 
CLASSMATES OF THE YOUTH. 



NEW-YORK : JOHN F. TROW, PRINTER, 49 ANN-STREET. 
1852. 






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o 



1*1 



THIS MEM 01 II 



Is dedicated by the Biographers to the Hon. Jaked Spakks, 
LL. D., President of Harvard University, in testimony of 
their high appreciation of his paternal interest in the Youths 
w7io resort to the University, and especially as a grateful ac- 
hiowledgment of the Tcindness which he manifested towards 
their Son. 



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CONTENTS. 



ROBERT'S COMPOSITIONS. 

PAGE 

Prayer 16 

Letter to the Eev. Dr. Stuart 21 

Thesis. — " We have reached that stage of our progress in which the highest 
pleasure that this life can afford is the anticipation of that which is to fol- 
low." • 29 

Thesis. — "Different Lives of Men and Bees." 34 

Forensic. — "Is there more to he gained or lost by a new Translation of the 

Scriptures for common use ? " . . ■ . . . . .3*7 

Thesis. — "A Picturesque Country in the Eye of a Native and a Stranger." . 72 
Thesis. — " The inseparable Enemies of Greatness." . . . . .165 

Forensic. — " Is there less danger in believing too much, or too little ? " . 169 
Thesis. — ■" "Which has the greatest Influence in the Formation of Man's Character, 

Circumstances, Organization, or Free-will ? " 174 

Forensic. — " I associate with no one, I employ no one, who is not of my Party 

in Beligion and Politics." .. .179 

Thesis. — " The influence over others of austere, forbidding virtue, and the mild, 

alluring virtues in Public Teachers of Eeligion." 188 

Thesis. — " A Meeting between Luther and Fenelon." 192 

Thesis. — "Self-inflicted Bodily Torments, "as Moral Preventives or Bemedies." . 203 
Thesis. — "An Early Emigrant to New England anticipating the Future Belations 

of this Country to others." 206 

Thesis. — " An American Novel written now upon a supposed state of things in 

the year 1900." 219 

Forensic.—" "Whether the conduct of the Patriots who destroyed the tea in 

Boston Harbor, in 1773, is to be condemned." 224 

Forensic. — " Whether Bepublican Institutions are favorable to the cultivation of 

the Fine Arts." 231 



VI 



PAGE 



Thesis. — " lie could not bear an equal." ....... 235 

Forensic. — " Was the act of Brutus in killing Caesar justifiable ? " . . 239 

Thesis. — "The Civil War was near, and both Cresar and Pompey paid great 
court to Cicero, each reckoning upon him as a determined friend." — ■" The 
difficulties of a Statesman who wishes to stand well with all." . . . 245 

Forensic. — " In selecting Studies for the Junior and Senior years, is it wise to 

drop Latin and Greek in order to attend to the Modern Languages?" 248 
Forensic. — " Were the Homeric Poems the production of a single Mind ? " 259 

Thesis.— " The Nile." 268 

Forensic. — ''Whether the interests of Truth and Virtue would be promoted by 
so far restricting the Freedom of the Press as to prevent Anonymous Publi- 
cations?" 271 

Forensic. — "Should the Free States, in delivering up Fugitive Slaves, secure to 

them the Right of the Writ of Habeas Corpus and Trial by Jury?" . .279 

Thesis. — " Men of the World, who have their portion in this life." — "The Psalm- 
ist's idea of a Man of the World and ours." ...... 291 

Thesis. — " The discovery of .a Gold-mine." ...... 295 

Thesis. — "Is the desire of Property an Instinctive Principle ?" . . . 298 

Thesis. — " A Civilized Nation without free access to Books — probable method of 

supplying them." .......... 302 

Thesis. — " He who decides for himself in rejecting what almost all others re- 
ceive." ...... 305 

Thesis. — "Although he was almost always lowest in all Ids Classes, his Compan- 
ions and his Masters looked upon him, by common consent, as first." . . 307 
Thesis. — " Was Mary accessory to the death of Darnley ? " . . . 310 

Them-. — " Shakspeare's Miranda." 313 

Thesis. — " The Origin of our Friendships." 316 

Thesis. — " Cicero, in a letter to Trebatius, then with the army in Gaul, laughs at 

him for his childish hankering after the City." 319 

Thesis. — " The Advantages of Travelling." 321 

The foregoing were written at Harvard University during the Junior and Senior 
years. The following at the Grammar School of Columbia College, from 1843 to 
1847. 

Theme. — "Home." 335 

Theme. — "Night." 340 

Theme. — " Night."— Continued 344 

Theme.—" Christmas Holidays." 347 



VII 



PAGE 

Theme. — "Pleasures of Christmas and New- Year." . . . . .372 

Theme. — " The things that belong to others please us more, and those which are 

ours are more pleasing to others." .373 

Theme. — " What most we wish with ease we fancy near." . . . .380 

Theme. — "Procrastination." . . .386 

Theme. — " Capital Punishment." 387 

Theme.— "The Evils of War." . • 393 

Theme. — "Crusades." 398 

Theme.— "Life of Horace." . 401 

Theme.— " History." 406 

Theme. — "Evacuation Day." 410 

Theme. — " The Relative Influence of Meu and Women." .... 412 
Theme. — " Which produce the more Beneficial Influences on Mankind, Classics, 

or Mathematics ? " 415 

Theme. — "Friendship." • . .418 

Theme.— "The duty of Children to Parents." 420 

Theme. — " Good Education." 421 

Theme. — "Fear." 424 

Theme, — "Which makes the greater Man, Genius or Application ? " . . 425 
Theme. — " Thanksgiving." . . . . . . . . .427 

Theme. — " Early Rising." 428 

Theme. — " Which is more useful, Agriculture, or Manufactures and Commerce ?" 430 

Theme. — "Ships and Ship-building." 432 

Theme. — "The Comparative Advantages and Disadvantages of Civilized and 

Savage Life." 433 

Theme. — "A Country or City." 436 

Theme. — " Is the Hope of Reward, or the Fear of Punishment, the greater Incen- 
tive to Exertion?" 438 

Theme. — "Justice." 504 



LETTERS TO THE PARENTS RELATIVE TO THEIR SON, AND OTHER 
MEMORIALS. 



From Mrs. M. J. Clarke 76 

" Miss Parker 79 

" Mrs. R. C. Clarke 81 

" Mr. Green 82 

" President Sparks 91, 93 



vm 



From Mr. Frothingham. 

" Mr. Goodwin. 

" Mr. Felton 

" Mrs. Dunn. 

" Mr. Robinson 

" Mr. Pierce. 

" Mr. Browne 

" Mrs. Batchelder. 

" Mis. G. Paine. 

" Mr. Batchelder. . 

" Miss Batchelder. 

" Mr. Babcock. . 

" Mr. Schrceder. 

" Mrs. S. Paine 

Resolutions and Letter from the Senior Class 

" from the Rumford Society. . 

Letter from the S. G. I. Club. . 

" from Robert's Fellow-Boarders. 
Ode by Mr. Robinson on Class Day. . 



95 

. 101 

104 

. 104 

119 

. 122 

124, 126 

. 129 

130 

132 

134 

139 

142 

149 

105 

113 

115 

116 

120 

Ode by Miss Batchelder 136 

Resolutions by Robert's Classmates at the Grammar School of Columbia College. 145 

Rev. Dr. Anthon's Obituary Notice 69 

Robert's Letters to his Parents. 54-64, 66, 154-159, 443, 444-450, 460, 

463-467 

Robert's Letter to Mr. Browne ■ . . . .127 

A W. S ■ to Robert 459 

The Parents to their Son. ... 10, 67, 442, 451, 453, 512, 515 

" to Mr. Green 86 

" to President Sparks. . . . . . . . .94 

" to the Senior Class 106 

Correspondence of the Parents 453, 467, 518 

Extract from Dr. Badeley's Lumleian Lectures 151 

A Descriptive Allegory. 456-502 

Supplement 503 

Postscript. — Obituary Notice of Robert's Mother. .... 507-519 



MEMOIR, ETC. 



As the life of a Youth, which has been spent in the train- 
ing of education, rarely affords any materials for history, so 
there can be no motive for obtruding it upon the world, unless 
there be something unusual attending his character, and per- 
haps some striking event through which it may attract attention 
and convey some moral instruction to mankind. There may 
be, also, something in his life and in the manner of his death of 
an inharmonious nature, which shall have made him the subject 
of public remark, that may call for, or justify, a memoir like 
the present. 

Although this combination of circumstances exists in the 
case before us, the individual has been too secluded from the 
world, and too unknown till his death, to engage the interest 
of any excepting his immediate friends, and that part of the 
community who find their greatest happiness in the cultiva- 



tion of morality and religion. This Memoir, therefore, is not 
designed for the Public, in its proper acceptation ; but for pri- 
vate distribution, especially among the friends of the deceased. 
This limitation will admit, also, of many things which might 
not be acceptable to the indifferent, or bear the criticism of 
those who read for any other than the intended purpose. 

Nor is it often that Parents are biographers, nor can it be 
often proper that they should commemorate their children. If 
worthy of more than a transient remembrance, there are others 
who would scarcely fail to perform the office, and in a more 
acceptable manner, because, in all probability, more impartially. 
But it seems to the Authors of this Memoir, from what has been 
already said, that no farther apology can be necessary in the 
instance before us ; and it is their design, also, to permit the 
Subject of. the Memoir to delineate his own character as seen in 
his writings, and to rest his habits and practical virtues upon 
the testimonials of his friends. 

Robert Troup Paine was the only surviving child of 
Martyn and Mary Ann Paine, and was born on the 10th day 
of August, 1829.* A brief narrative of his physical condition 
during his infancy and early childhood will reflect some light 
upon his moral condition, his subsequent life, and the manner 
of his death. The closing scene, when contrasted with his 
education, opinions, habits, disposition, and prospects, imparts 

* His Christian name was derived from an early friend of his parents, Col. Robert 
Troup, whose distinguished military, civil, and Christian life is enshrined in history. 



to the subject an interest which may compensate the reader, 
whether it be regarded as a moral problem, or as a source of 
moral improvement. To accomplish these intentions, there 
must be a good deal of circumstantial detail, which would 
otherwise possess but little interest. This may be said, also, of 
many of his compositions, which are connected with the Memoir 
to show the constitution of his mind and the purity of his 
thoughts. 

Robert was consigned to the care of a nurse, on account of 
the infirmity of his Mother's health, till the age of fourteen 
months ; when, being in Vermont, and from unavoidable cir- 
cumstances, he was deprived of his nurse, at an unfavorable 
season of the year, for the space of a month. He then returned 
to New- York, and fell at once into a disease of the digestive 
organs, which continued for many years, rendering him helpless, 
and delaying his education till he was far advanced into the age 
of childhood. Means were taken, immediately, to restore to 
him his natural diet ; but during the short interval he had lost 
the art of nursing, and the breast-pump was employed to pro- 
cure his nourishment till he attained the age of two years and 
eight months. During this time he exhausted several nurses, 
and was also daily provided by many kind friends, who took a 
lively interest in his preservation. A public record of his case 
was briefly made by his Father, to illustrate a principle in medi- 
cine ; and as it is sufficient for the purpose now contemplated, 
it may be introduced here. 



After referring to the foregoing method of sustaining him, 
the record goes on : — " For five years afterwards, he subsisted 
upon arrow-root made with water, during which time he con- 
sumed some hundreds of pounds. From having been the con- 
stant subject of very dangerous disease, and existing in the state 
of a skeleton, he emerged from that condition, and became 
robust and fleshy whilst living upon the arrow-root. He is now 
ten years of age, very stout, eats a variety of vegetables, but 
has had no animal food." * 

From a memorandum made by his Mother at the time, it 
appears that his teeth, after his fourteenth month, had made no 
farther progress at the age of three years ; " nor could he then 
stand alone. He walked across the floor, for the first time, at 
the age of four years and twelve days ; but it was long after 
before he could move about with firmness and confidence." 

But, although his general growth was very slowly progres- 
sive till after his seventh year, and although he was for a long 
time in a state of great emaciation, the development of his 
brain was unusually rapid, and his head exceeded the ordinary 
dimensions. At the age of about seven (July 24th, 1836), his 
stature was three feet two and a half inches, and the circum- 
ference of his head around the occiput and forehead was twenty 
inches. At his twentieth year he had reached the height of 
five feet eight and a half inches, was stout and capable of great 
endurance. At the age of two years his Mother recorded of 

* Medical and Physiological Commentaries, vol. 1, page 693. 



him, — " His appearance was more that of a skeleton with the 
skin drawn over it, wherein every bone, muscle, and sinew 
might be distinctly told, than that of a living object. His 
countenance was cadaverous in the extreme, exhibiting the ashy 
hue and repose of death. As to his mind, I can compare it 
more appropriately to the fire-fly than to any thing else ; gene- 
rally remaining in a state of inactivity and darkness, but at 
times sending forth brilliant scintillations, which gave evidence 
to me of a gem of no common value, and that, should the child 
ever regain his health, he would at some future period amply 
repay the solicitude and care with which his life has been pre- 
served." But this was a brief period, compared with the subse- 
quent five years of unintermitting anxiety for his life, and of 
cares which none but a parent can imagine. 

To illustrate, as far as may be, the physical condition of the 
brain, it may be said that his Father, for another purpose, had 
spoken formerly of an inflammation with which that organ was 
affected, and to which reference is made in the letter addressed 
to the Senior Class of Harvard University. He was then nine 
instead of twelve years of age, as erroneously stated in the 
letter. The following is the record of the case : 

" The most remarkable example (of blood-letting, under my 
own observation) has occurred in the case of my only child ; 
whose general history of health is stated in the Commentaries 
for another purpose. 

" Not long after his very protracted disease had given way, 



and being at the age of nine years, lie was suddenly and 
violently attacked with well-marked inflammation of the brain, 
lungs, and small intestines. I raised him to an erect posture, 
and bled him very largely. The symptoms gave way ; but, in 
six hours afterward, those of the brain, and, in an inferior 
degree, of the lungs and intestines, had reappeared. I then 
bled him again, in the same posture, and to the extent of 
syncope. Before exhibiting any medicine, I still awaited the 
ultimate effect of loss of blood. The cerebral symptoms gradu- 
ally presented themselves again, and I bled him, for the third 
time, as before, at the expiration of about twelve hours after 
the second blood-letting. Soon afterward, I gave him one tea- 
spoonful of castor oil, which completed the direct course of 
treatment. In two days after the last blood-letting I took him 
upon the railroad a distance of five miles, and returned. The 
cmantity of blood abstracted in the foregoing case was very 
large at each abstraction, and exceeded, in the ratio and size of 
the subject, what I shall have recorded of the experience of 
others." * 

It has been stated that his brain underwent development in 
a rapid manner. Accompanying this condition, was a corres- 
ponding manifestation of mind, which advanced with great 
rapidity after the age of two years, having emerged rather 
suddenly out of its state of listlessness. His curiosity became 
alive to every thing before him, and, like other children, he 

* Institutes of Medicine, page 749. 



delighted in stories, especially in the " Melodies of Mother 
Goose." And now began a display of that remarkable combi- 
nation of the child and the man which distinguished his whole 
subsequent life. The first manifestation of the gravity of his 
thoughts was seen in the earnestness with which he listened to 
the attributes of God, to the recital of prayer, and readings 
from the Bible. 

Simultaneously with this, he evinced a great retentiveness of 
memory, which kept pace with the revolving days. At the age 
of two years and ten months, the stretch of his memory was 
accidentally tested by a map which was shown to him for 
amusement. Several places were pointed out, and in three 
days afterward, on his manifesting a wish to see the Atlas again, 
it was discovered that he could point to the places which had 
been shown him before, as their names were pronounced. This 
being done with accuracy, the experiment was continued upon 
many maps throughout the world. Each lesson consisted of six 
to twenty places, or regions of country, and scarcely a mistake 
was made by the child in pointing out the places when they 
were again named to him. "When the experiments began, the 
names were generally pronounced but once or twice, and an 
interval of three to six days would be allowed to elapse before 
testing his memory. On one occasion, and not long after the 
development of this faculty, all the islands in the Grecian 
Archipelago were pointed out, and, at a subsequent time, his 
finger fell upon each of the islands as their names were pro- 



8 

nounced. This trait of mind remained with him always, though 
it became less remarkable after the full recovery of his health 
at the age of eight years. It early rendered him the service of 
impressing indelibly whatever was read to him from the Bible ; 
and when he came to peruse that volume, it imparted to him a 
familiarity with all its parts that gave a zest to his devotional 
habits. 

Another unusual characteristic of his early life was the 
power of calculation. But, before proceeding farther with 
these peculiarities, it may be said that they are stated more 
for the purpose of connecting them with the extraordinary 
religious feeling which was manifested in his infancy, and to 
illustrate a mind which suddenly finished its course under the 
happiest and most endearing conditions of life, than for any 
other object. 

This power of calculation was predicted by Dr. Chapin, of 
this city (at an accidental interview for the first and only time), 
upon the ground of phrenological development, when the child 
was five years of age. The Doctor was told that there had been 
no such manifestation of mind ; but he insisted that " it would 
sooner or later come out." It did display itself very suddenly 
and remarkably in about eight months afterwards, though he 
had not been taught figures, and was just engaged in learning 
the alphabet. How far the power extended, it was not thought 
right to ascertain, on account of the injury which any severe 
exercise of the mind exerted upon his digestive organs. An 



experiment was early carried as far as the addition of eighteen 
series of figures, each series consisting of two figures. The 
amount of the whole was rendered immediately. 

There was no attempt to cultivate this singular faculty, 
partly for the reason already stated, and in part with a view to 
leaving it without that exercise which had been supposed to 
have destroyed it in former cases. It was called out, at inter- 
vals, for a few years, when it seemed to be advancing ; but it 
finally departed from him, and rather suddenly. In after years 
he was never able to explain the process by which he had com- 
puted. It should be said, however, that he always possessed a 
great facility in mathematical problems, though his taste did 
not He particularly in that direction. A restraint was long 
imposed upon his study of Arithmetic, from a fear of its injuri- 
ous effect upon his brain ; and it was not till within two years 
before he entered Harvard University that he was allowed to 
apply himself with much diligence to that pursuit. Until that 
time, his knowledge of Arithmetic was mostly spontaneous ; 
and that was so considerable that when the class failed of 
answering questions, Robert was called upon, and generally 
with success. Farther than this, he had no part in the 
mathematical exercises. It may be said, also, in connection 
with this subject, that he early excelled at the game of chess, 
and that it was, for a long time, a matter of anxiety with 
his Parents lest his brain should suffer from this cause. It 
occasioned him headaches when at Cambridge, and, in conse- 



10 

quence of this, within the last two years of his life he had 
nearly abandoned the game.* 

During the long period of his sickness, from the age of two 
and a half years, his mind was actively turned upon all objects 
before him, so that he had obtained a great fund of knowledge 
before he was allowed to acquire the art of reading. His edu- 
cation then advanced rapidly, and he was prepared to enter at 
Columbia College, as certified by Professor Anthon of that 
institution, two years before he entered at Harvard University. 
But, in consideration of his former infirmity of health, he was 
kept another year at the Grammar School, when he again went 

* As an exemplification of this solicitude, the following extract of a letter from his 
Mother is annexed. 

"New-York, August 31, 1843. 
" Mr dear Robert : 

"I received j - our letter to-day by Henry, who called to see me. I was happy, 
my dear boy, to hear from you, to hear of your health and happiness. I had heard 
of you through your Father, from whom I received a letter yesterday. He thought 
he should leave Salisbury for Canaan, to meet you there this week. I hope you 
received my late letter, in which, Robert, I gave you my objections fully to your play- 
ing chess. If you did not receive it, I must say that I wish you would discontinue 
the game altogether and entirely. I much regret that I did not speak to you about 
it before you went to Canaan. I fear you may have already injured yourself. How- 
ever I may be gratified at hearing how well you play, my dear son, I cannot avoid a 
terrible foreboding that my next intelligence will be that you are ill of a brain /ever. 
I wish you would write to me immediately after receiving this letter, and tell me you 
will not play another game while you are in Canaan. Your Father has the same 
opinion. I am sorry, Robert, to abridge your amusements ; but any thing which we 
think may cost you your life, should be dispensed with. 

Your affectionate Mother." 



11 



over the studies of the preceding year ; and as his Father had 
always designed him for Harvard University, his entrance was 
delayed another year to enable him to attend to some special 
studies required at that Institution, and that his health, also, 
should not he endangered by close application. He was then 
nearly eighteen years of age, and his health continued to be 
sound till the time of his death, unless somewhat impaired 
before taking his late journey into Virginia. 

During his connection with College, which continued into 
the last term of his Senior year, every thing was done to 
administer to his happiness. He was wholly unlimited in his 
pecuniary expenses, and frequent visits were made to him at 
Cambridge by his Parents. Indeed, his Mother lived with him 
there during a part of two winters ; and through the whole of 
his separation a weekly and often daily correspondence was 
maintained. 

Many details illustrative of his character and habits will be 
found in the letters written by his Father in answer to the kind 
expressions of sympathy and condolence by the Classmates of 
the Youth, and which are printed in connection with the latter 
for the perusal of those who may be inclined to carry their 
attention beyond the general Memoir. But there is one circum- 
stance, especially, which forms the most remarkable feature of 
his life, and is without any precedent within the knowledge of 
his Parents. This was his devotional feeling ; and to this, there- 
fore, a more extended notice will be given. There was some- 



12 

thing in it which, always appeared to his Parents more like 
inspiration than an acquired disposition. They have never been 
able to explain it upon the ground of instruction, nor upon any 
theory of human sentiments and actions ; and they now look 
back upon it with the full conviction that it belonged as much, 
at least, to the constitution of his soul as his early power of 
computing numbers, and the rarer singularity of his memory. 
But, while he lost the former of these peculiarities, and the 
latter was shorn of its astonishing feature as he advanced 
beyond the age of childhood, it will be seen by his latest com- 
positions that his deep reverential feeling for holy things was 
in full blaze to the last, and may appear to the reader to have 
been a concurring cause of his death. 

There is no disposition felt by his Parents to exaggerate this 
subject ; for what was apparently natural to the child, was so 
extraordinary, that, when they connect it with the remarkable 
preservation of his life during many years of hopeless disease, 
and the circumstances attending his death, when his soul was 
delighting in the purest of earthly enjoyments, mingled with 
aspirations after an immortality of heavenly bliss, they have 
much reason to think that one of his Schoolmates,* in a letter 
to them, has given a just interpretation of the Providential 
influences which attended their child. 

It was observed, that, when at the age of two years and a 
half, his attention was called to his dependence upon God, and 

* See Mr. Babeoek's Letter. 



13 



passages were read to him from the Bible, he manifested a pro- 
found interest ; and, as soon as he could speak, it was seen with 
how much devotion he had listened by his daily repetition of 
what he had heard. He would often call for the Bible, and 
when placed before him, his imitation of reading would deceive 
an observer unacquainted with his ignorance of letters. There 
was nothing in this of the levity of "child-preaching," but it 
was practised with a seriousness which inspired solemnity in 
all observers, and by whom the greatest care was taken to 
avoid appearances which might not harmonize with his devo- 
tional feeling. 

This system of instruction was continued, though with 
increasing moderation, till his knowledge rendered him inde- 
pendent ; when he seized with avidity upon the Scriptures, 
and read them twice through by the age of thirteen years. 
Although his memory had now enabled him to treasure up a 
large proportion of the Sacred Volume, it is within the know- 
ledge of one or both of his parents, that he continued this prac- 
tice, whether in town or country, at least morning and evening, 
till the time he left them for College, at the age of about 
eighteen years, and subsequently, more or less, during the 
vacations ; when he generally read the Greek. 

His undeviating attention to the Sabbath, as stated in the 
letter from his Father to the Senior Class, was not less remarka- 
ble. It was carried, indeed, to the greatest rigor ; and his 
Parents can now trace him along, with the most vivid recollec- 



14 

tion, from the age of two years and a half, as always employed 
on Saturday evening in preparing for the solemn observance of 
the following day, by abandoning his toys, or casting off other 
amusements. It is also due to his memory that it should be 
said that this was never prompted by others, but was wholly 
spontaneous with the child ; and, as an exenrplification of the 
strictness of the principle by which he was governed up to a 
mature age, it may be stated that, on one occasion after hi- 
seventeenth year, when his Father desired him to leave a letter 
at the house of a patient on his way to Church, he subsequently 
expressed a wish that his Father would absolve him, as far as 
possible, from all temporal matters on the Sabbath day. His 
conscience, however, in that respect, had been very scrupulously 
observed. 

His infant prayers were uttered with a fervency which 
would have awakened devotional feeling in the obtuse ; and, at 
an early age he would retire alone, morning and evening, and 
often at other hours also, to perform this part of his devotions. 
Nothing ever interrupted this habit. In his infancy, as soon as 
he had lisped his prayers, he always desired to be left alone. 
He was often known, when at the primary school, and after- 
ward at the Grammar School of Columbia College, when unusu- 
ally detained in the morning by study, or other cause, to forego 
his breakfast rather than to neglect his prayers and reading the 
Bible ; and, for the latter purpose, he would incur the risk of 
losing his place in the class, although he had an indomitable 



15 

ambition to be always at the bead* As a farther example of 
bis perseverance in bis rebgious habits, and of the reverential 
feebng which sustained and governed him, it may be said, as 
might be expected, that he was often rallied by his Schoolmates 
upon the solemnity of his compositions, and although they 
became familiarly known among them as sermons, it had no 
effect in inducing him to modify their character, nor did he ever 
mention the subject to his Parents. 

It is difficult, however, to convey, by any description of his 
habits, the manner in which his religious feeling exercised an 
universal sway over all his movements. It seemed as if an 
enchanting Spirit led his way in every action ; kept him aloof 
from all associates who did not approach bis standard of 
morabty ; inspired him with a zeal for intellectual pursuits, or 
for the most innocent amusements, that were always marked by 
an animated perseverance ; and which chained him to such an 
undeviatmg observance of his religious convictions that it 
would often display itself in the midst of his buoyant pleasures. 
This is sometimes conspicuous in his compositions, an example 
of which occurs in bis Grammar School exercise on the " Christ- 
mas Hobdays ; " Article 37. 

There exists among his papers the following prayer, com- 
posed by himself soon after he began to learn the art of 
writing. 



* In this he was generally successful, as exjjressed in the letter from his school- 
mate, Mr. Babcock. 



16 



PRAYEE. 



" Almighty God, I thank Thee for this opportunity of prais- 
ing Thy Holy Name. I implore Thy pardon for the sins which 
I have committed. O Lord, preserve me from all sin this day, 
that at the close of it I may lie down to rest with a clear con- 
science towards God, and a sure trust in the merits of Jesus 
Christ. Blot out my sins. Blessed is the man that keepeth 
Thy commandments, and cursed is he that breaketh them. No 
man shall see Thy face that works iniquity, and he shall sink 
down into hell, prepared for the devil and his angels. O Lord, 
when Thy only begotten Son, who came into the world to save 
sinners, shall come to prouounce judgment according to the 
deeds done in the body, He shall say, ' Come ye blessed of my 
Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you ; ' or ' Depart 
from me ye cursed into everlasting fire.' O Lord, grant that 
when He comes and says that, I may take a seat on the Throne 
of Righteousness, and have a crown put on my head which is 
purer than the purest gold ; for gold fades away, but that is an 
everlasting crown of glory, which endureth for ever and ever ; 
Amen. 

" O Lord, I thank Thee for having left this promise, that 
those who seek Thee early shall find Thee. O Lord, Thou ever 
loved little children so, that Thou even took them and blessed 
them, and said, ' Suffer little children to come unto me, and for- 
bid them not, for of such is the kingdom of God.' 



17 

" O Lord, grant whatever I may ask. I ask salvation, 
wisdom, food, raiment, health, faith and trust in Thee ; particu- 
larly faith and trust in Thee, because that is the only thing 
that will conquer earth and hell. ' Whom have I in Heaven but 
Thee, and there is none upon earth that I desire besides Thee.' 
Lift up Thou the light of Thy countenance upon me, and this 
shall put more joy and gladness in my heart than when ' corn 
and wine increaseth.' 'A day in Thy courts is better than a 
thousand elsewhere. I had rather be a door-keeper in the 
house of God, than to dwell in the tents of wickedness.' 

" I pray that Thou wouldst forgive my enemies, if I have 
any.* Blessed Jesus, I thank Thee that I and my friends are 
permitted to see the returning light. May we remain in health 
till the close of it. May we then lie down to rest with a clear 
mind towards God, and a sure trust in the merits of Jesus 
Christ. Amen." 

Then follows the Lord's Prayer, written in the large, 
unsteady hand of beginners. 

As an internal evidence of his devotional feeling, it may be 
stated that, in all his compositions, from the earliest to the 
latest, he begins the pronouns relative to God and Jesus Christ 
with a capital letter. Its uniformity is the striking charac- 
teristic. 



* In the course of a conversation with his Mother, in January, 1851, he inciden- 
tally remarked that " he had not an enemy." 

3 



18 

His attendance at Church, from the time he was able to go 
abroad alone, was in perfect harmony with all his other devo- 
tional exercises. Up to the time of his leaving his Parents for 
College, he was never absent from Church, unless occasionally 
prevented by temporary sickness. No condition of weather, no 
storm, however severe, ever deterred him from the fulfilment of 
this duty. It should be also stated that this, too, was wholly 
spontaneous. There was no prompting from his Parents, for 
there had early come over them an apprehension that his reli- 
gion would run into excess. It is also due to the Child, and to 
the subject, that it should be said that, when at the age of 
thirteen, and again at fourteen years, he expressed a desire to 
become a communicant at Church, he was advised by his 
Father to delay it till his judgment should become more 
mature, and when he could better appreciate the responsibili- 
ties he would assume. The Father delighted in the piety of 
the Child, for it was, indeed, the pride of his heart. He deeply 
laments the advice which was given ; but it was in conformity 
with the facts that were perpetually before him. He was 
appalled by the fear of fanaticism or religious monomania ; a 
fear that for a long period haunted the imagination of his 
Parents. But the progress of time has revealed the groundless 
nature of their apprehensions, and presents the Religion of the 
Child and the Man as for ever flowing in the uniform current of a 
calm, rational, lofty and dignified Christianity ; a Religion which 
infused itself into all his pursuits and enjoyments, and rendered 



19 

his life as pure, contented and happy as was ever enjoyed 
upon earth. The Father is now convinced, on reviewing the 
history of fanaticism in Religion, that it does not often spring 
from cultivating the holiest of its precepts at the earliest age 
when the soul may be awakened to its realities, and that no 
restraint should "be imposed upon the aspirations of a child 
when apparently founded in conviction. The evil probably lies 
in artificial excitements before the rational faculties are suffi- 
ciently developed to resist their sway, or in errors of education, 
or temperament, or incapacity. In the instance before us there 
was a ready acquiescence, and no injurious effect. But, in 
another case, it is freely conceded that it might be otherwise, 
and doubtless has been. 

It will be seen from the letter addressed by his Father to 
the Senior Class, that Robert was anxious to make the Hebrew 
language an elective study for the Junior year, and that this 
was discouraged partly from a fear that he would devote him- 
self prematurely to the study of divinity. This apprehension 
was awakened particularly by a remark made to his Mother in 
his Sophomore year, after returning from a visit to the Rev. 
Dr. Anthon, when he exclaimed, in an exulting manner, — 
" Ma ! Ma ! what do you think I have done ? I have engaged 
to study divinity with Dr. Anthon." But, it should be said 
that, the even tenor of his way, and his sound logical mind, 
had long before this dissipated all apprehension of fanatical 
delusion. 



20 

Robert was always devoted to the Episcopal Church, 
though he could worship with other denominations. What 
he thought of the latter, and how rational his religion was, 
will appear from some of his compositions. He was severe 
upon whatever he regarded as artificial or hypocritical ; but 
his charity for most sects in religion, so far as he knew 
them, and even for paganism that worshipped according to 
the light of nature and of conscience, was of the most benevo- 
lent kind. 

Although he avows himself an Episcopalian, and an adhe- 
rent to the doctrines of the Church, in one of his late forensics 
(Article 9), yet his charity for other denominations was so 
great, that other proof may be stated that he cherished to the 
last the cardinal tenets of the Church as indispensable to true 
religion. This was displayed with so much earnestness of 
feeling to his Mother while she was residing with him at Cam- 
bridge, during the last winter, that she made it the subject of 
a letter to his Father. This was in January, about two months 
before his death. It should be said, however, that the object 
of the letter was to show that he retained his remarkable 
familiarity with the Scriptures, as evinced by his application 
of them in defending the doctrines of the Church, and the 
triumphant manner in which he sustained an argument upon 
the subject with an able theologian of a different faith. "The 
conversation began," says his Mother, "relative to the many 
views entertained in respect to the Bible. Robert maintained 



21 

its divine inspiration throughout, that it was one beautiful and 
harmonious whole, and that it sets forth most clearly the doc- 
trine of the atonement (to use his own words), ' from the first 
chapter of Genesis to the last of Revelation ; that that was the 
burden of its precepts and of the prophecies, and the only 
interpretation to the types and apparent mysteries.' He sup- 
ported his argument by many texts, and thence deduced the 
divinity of our Saviour as the unavoidable result. He uttered 
sentiments that did credit to himself and his cause. He main- 
tained the discussion with all the warmth and enthusiasm of his 
nature, and from a pure love of truth, and not from a spirit of 
disputation or display ; and the whole gave evident manifesta- 
tions that he retains his former remarkable familiarity with 
the contents of the sacred- volume." 

An article from his pen appeared in the New- Yorh Evening 
Post of June 26, 1850, about eight months before his death, 
which is illustrative of the object now in view, and it is there- 
fore inserted here for that purpose. 



AETICLE I. 



LETTER TO THE EEV. PROFESSOR MOSES STUART, D. D. 



" Dear and Revereistd Sir : — It is with feelings of intense 
pleasure and interest that I have just perused the pamphlet, 
recently put forth by you, on the subject of ' Conscience and 



22 

the Constitution.' * It is with joy I hail the clay when the sub- 
ject of slavery is to be brought before the tribunal of morality; 
and conscience, as supreme judge, is to give her decree whether 
man shall hold in bondage his brother man. The liberal- 
mindedness you show towards your opponents, cannot fail to 
command almost universal admiration, as well as the good 
humor, and pleasant sarcasm, with which you answer your 
impertinent revilers. But, although I most fully approve of 
what I believe to be really your principles at heart, concern- 
ing the institution of slavery, I cannot think that you are con- 
sistent in all that you have said in your able work. 

" You devote about twenty pages to ' The Attitude of 
Slavery as presented by the Old Testament,' and bring up 
many passages which show conclusively that slavery was au- 
thorized by the Mosaic code. Then you go on to say : 

" ' In the name of all that is called reasoning now, in morals or 
religion, how is the ownership of slaves, which Heaven has given ex- 
press leave to purchase, to be deemed a crime of the deepest dye — 
a malum in se — an offence to be classed with murder and treason? 
Let those answer this question who decide, a priori, what the Bible 
ought to speak, and then turn it over, in order to see how they can 
make it speak what they wish. But there is no bending of Moses's 
words. — There they are, so plain that " he who runneth may read." 



* Professor Stuart's pamphlet is a defence of a Speech on the subject of 
slavery, delivered by the Hon. Daniel Webster, in the Senate of the United States, 
during the pendency of the great compromise question. 



23 



If abolitionists are right in their position, then Moses is greatly in 
the wrong. More than this, then, has the God of the Hebrews sanc- 
tioned, with his express leave, the commission of a crime as great as 
that which he has forbidden in the sixth or seventh commandment.' 

"This on the 35th page. Now we will turn back to the 
25th page. There, with regard to slavery in its connection 
with the patriarchs, your words are : 

" ' If we appeal to the patriarchs to justify slavery, then why not 
appeal to them in order to justify polygamy and concubinage? Un- 
doubtedly they neither thought nor intended to do wrong in either 
of the cases that are before us. But this will not justify us in 
imitating them. The Gospel has given us better light.' 

" Then you go on to say : 

'"I shall enter into no argument here in defence of the patriarchs. 
In one sense they do not concern us, for the blessed God, by his 
gospel, having scattered the darkness of early ages, has made us to 
walk in the clear light of the Sun of Righteousness, so that poly- 
gamy and concubinage are no more regarded in Christian lands as 
lawful or proper. Perhaps we may see, before we are through, that 
slavery is as little commanded or even permitted by the highest form 
of Christianity, as those practices. Still it is proper to say in relation 
to the patriarchs, that every man's conduct is to be judged of, in 
most cases, at least in some good measure, by the light he has, and 
by the age and circumstances in which he lived.' 



"Here you acknowledge the practices and customs of the 
patriarchs to be no authority to us of the present day, except 



24 

so far as they are in accordance with the ' better light ' of the 
Gospel, in which every one must say that you are perfectly 
correct. But can we say that the practices and the customs of 
the patriarchs were not as divinely authorized or permitted, as 
were the laws of Moses ? Surely no one, who has examined 
the Bible, can say this ! For throughout the whole of the 
Sacred Volume the patriarchs are spoken of in terms of rev- 
erence and respect. Everywhere does the Almighty bestow 
upon them marks of his peculiar approbation. And how often 
do we find the enviable promise : ' In thy seed shall all the 
nations of the earth be blessed. ' They were peculiarly 
favored of Him, and upon them He bestowed the honors of 
direct communion with Himself. Now let us turn to the Bible, 
and see whether in His communications to Abraham he sanc- 
tioned the practice of slavery. In Genesis, 17th chapter, we 
find these words : ' And God said unto Abraham, Every man- 
child among you shall be circumcised. He that is born in thy 
house, and he that is bought with thy money, must needs be 
circumcised.' And what- said the angel of the Lord unto 
Hagar, when he found her in the wilderness ? In the 16th 
chapter of Genesis, the 9th verse, we find it recorded in these 
words : ' Return to thy mistress, and submit thyself under her 
hands. 1 

" From these and other passages, it is evident that slavery 
was practised, although not by Divine command, yet by Divine 
permission, as well in the time of Abraham as in the time of 



25 

Moses. Yet you and I, and all Christians, acknowledge that 
the patriarchal code is no authority for us, where it is contrary 
to the ' better light ' of the Gospel. 

" But in so doing, we surely do not ' tax high Heaven with 
misdemeanor — with encouragement to commit one among the 
foulest of crimes.' ISTo, never ! never ! It needs hut little re- 
flection to see that one thing might he right for those who live 
in one age of the world, and under another code ; while the 
same thing may be wrong for those who live in another age of 
the world, and under another code. One thing might be right 
for the patriarchs, and wrong for us. 

" We regard the Gospel as the exponent of the patriarchal 
code ; so that whatever in the latter we find to be against the 
express command or spirit of the former, we feel justified in 
rejecting, as authority for our rule of action. But does not the 
Gospel claim for itself the same privilege with regard to the 
Mosaic code? Let us see: Matthew 5: 38, 39— 'Ye have 
heard that it hath been said (Lev. 24 : 20), An eye for an eye, 
and a tooth for a tooth ; but I say unto you, That ye resist not 
evil.' Again: Matthew 5: 43, 44 — 'Ye have heard that it 
hath been said, Thou shalt love thy neighbor, and hate thine 
enemy ; but I say unto you, Love your enemies.' Again : I 
may refer to the 10th chapter of Mark, concerning divorcement, 
and to your favorite apostle Paul, where he treats of circum- 
cision. Do not these passages plainly show us, that the laws 
and principles of Christ are to be our rule of action, even where 



26 

they differ from those of Moses ; or, in other words, that Chris- 
tianity is the exponent of all laws and codes which preceded it ? 

" Now the question arises, Is slavery contrary to the spirit 
and principles of Christianity ? This, sir, I think you have 
clearly proved in the last twenty pages of your ' little work ; ' 
but whether you have proved it or not, you have certainly 
shown that such is your oj)inion, which is all the same for my 
purpose. Can any one, who is at all a believer in Christianity, 
say that what is contrary to its spirit and principles is not 
a wrong — a crime for us, although it may not have been so for 
those who lived in the days of Abraham or Moses ? Most 
surely not, for this is the fundamental rule of our actions, that 
what Christianity approves is right, what she condemns is 
wrong — is crime. And if that crime be one which seriously 
affects the happiness and welfare of our fellow-beings, it becomes 
a great crime. 

" If, sir, you had said that slavery was not contrary to the 
spirit and principles of Christianity, I should only have to say, 
that I do not approve of your principles ; that you and I inter- 
pret the Bible differently, and your rebuke of the abolitionists 
for their views respecting the morality of slavery would have 
been most entirely consistent. But in taking an opposite 
course, in endeavoring to prove that slavery is contrary to the 
spirit and principles of Christianity, you yourself have allowed 
that it is a crime ; and in setting forth, in the glowing colors 
which you have done, the evils of the institution, and in stigma- 



21 

tiring it with, the well-merited appellation of ' might prevailing 
over right,' you have allowed that it is not only a crime, but one 
of a deep, if not the ' deepest dye.' 

" Now, sir, how is the rebuke (which I have quoted) of the 
abolitionists for their views respecting the morality of slavery, 
consistent with yourself, when those views are the same that 
you entertain, that the colonizationists entertain, (in whose favor 
you afterwards speak in terms of the highest praise, and justly 
so ;) views, too, which yourself think are borne out by the 
highest principles of Christianity? How is this denunciation 
consistent with yourself on the 103d page, where, after bring- 
ing forward some strong arguments against slavery, you say : 

"'And if all this be true, then, for one part of mankind to enslave 
another, stands on the simple ground of might prevailing over right. 
Neither the law of love, nor doing as we would be done by, permits 
any man to act on such a ground, and be guiltless before God'! 

" I am, with feelings of deep respect, 

" Reverend Sir, most truly yours." 

His apparently intuitive perception of the right was so 
great, and his sensibility to the wrong so acute, that, as he 
became acquainted with mankind, he was much pained by what 
he considered a far more prevailing hypocrisy in Religion than 
he had been prepared to find. It finally became even a source 
of distress to him ; so much so, indeed, that his Parents regarded 
it, from conversations with him when he was last in New- York, 



28 

and but shortly before bis death, as a morbid sentiment. He 
expressed himself as shocked with all appearances of insincerity 
in assemblages for the worship of God. This feeling is evinced 
in some of his late Theses, written at College. It is conspicuous 
in an Article which he transmitted to Washington City, twelve 
days before his death, for publication in the Newspapers. He 
had just spent a week in that City, and on reaching New- York 
he inclosed the Article to his Classmate, Mr. Felton, who was 
then at Washington. It is severe upon certain misdeeds which 
he witnessed there, and contains an enthusiastic eulogium upon 
Washington. 

He has left a record of the Sermons which he had heard 
through a long period of time, in which he evinces great atten- 
tion, as well as the power of his memory; having generally 
sketched their principal features, and often accompanied them 
with critical remarks. But their introduction here is considered 
unnecessary, and may not possess sufficient interest. As far as 
possible, he kept all these things to himself, and he never knew 
that his Parents were aware of the existence of these records, 
or of the preceding Prayer. 

A thousand little circumstances remain untold, which would 
more and more exalt this child of God in the esteem of those 
who admired him most ; for his piety was of that unobtrusive 
nature which is mostly to be seen in an exemplary and amiable 
deportment. Some of these will appear in the correspondence 
which follows, and in his own writings where he speaks for 



29 

• 

himself. It has been th ought by his Parents to be an object of 
interest to present the Youth in his full religious character, for 
the purpose, at least, of divesting the manner of Iris death of 
all considerations that can bear injuriously upon Christianity, 
and to show that there had been no falling off from the deep 
feeling of piety which had hallowed his infancy. Among the 
many other evidences of this which will have been shown, the 
following Thesis, written about four months and a half before 
his death, as a College exercise, and obtained, with the others 
that follow, from the Eev. Prof. Walker, is sufficiently conclu- 
sive. The testimonials of his friends will show how well he 
fulfilled the principles which pervade this and other composi- 
tions. It will be seen, also, that the Thesis is a forcible appeal 
against the act which so soon afterwards cost him his life. (See 
also a Forensic, Article 9, written two months and a half before 
his death.) 

THESIS— ARTICLE H. 

" ' WE HAVE BEACHED THAT STAGE OF OUR PROGRESS IN WHICH 
THE HIGHEST PLEASURE THAT THIS LIFE CAN AFFORD IS THE ANTICI- 
PATION OF THAT WHICH IS TO FOLLOW.' 

" Our subject involves a question which, although of little 
importance, is one of much difficulty to answer; namely, whe- 
ther there be such a stage of man's progress, ' in which the 
highest pleasure,' &c. 



30 

" The question may, perhaps, be regarded in different lights, 
according to the sense in which we take the word ' progress ; ' 
whether we regard it as signifying a certain period of life, or a 
certain state of advancement, intellectual and moral. 

" If the former he the sense, then the solution of the ques- 
tion depends upon the consideration of the effects of age jn 
blunting the faculties, and impairing the senses, the chanuels 
through which we receive whatever enjoyment flows from 
sources which are without, and the effect of this, in its turn, in 
making man weary of this existence and longing for another. 

" If the latter be the correct acceptation, the answer must 
depend upon a consideration of the effects of a high culture of 
the mind, great elevation of thought, refinement of the moral 
sense, a love of whatever is holy and pure, in making man 
dissatisfied with this world of sense and sin, and leadiug him to 
seek enjoyment in depicting to his imagination the joys of a 
world where every thing shall be in harmony with his nature, 
and where he can satisfy the utmost cravings of his soul. 

" In the first case, to suppose a period when the highest 
enjoyment consists in the anticipation of another existence, is to 
suppose a period when death becomes desirable ; when we wish 
to leave this world, not because we are too elevated for its 
pleasures, but because time has rendered us incapable of enjoy- 
ing them. It is true, indeed, that in childhood there are many 
sources from which the mind, entirely bent upon the present, 
free from all anxious cares about the future, nay, almost uncon- 



31 

scions of a future, can drink pure and unalloyed enjoyment ; 
and that, as life advances, the sources are not only changed, but 
diniinished in number. Thus far we speak from experience, as 
well as observation ; but from the latter we should infer that 
this goes on till when, ' sans teeth, sans eyes, sans every thing,' 
man has very few sources of pleasure. Still we very much 
doubt whether the days ever come in which it can be said 
' there is no pleasure in them,' and when man is led to wish for 
death as the road to a future state in which his capacity for 
enjoyment will be renewed. 

"All Nature cries out against such an idea as this. Consider 
the horror with which the aged man shrinks from death, the 
happiness he experiences in the mere fact of living. Consider, 
too, the desire of all for length of days, and then ask yourself 
if it would have been in accordance with the Wisdom of the 
Creator to have placed in the human breast a desire to live to 
a period in which the highest happiness would be the anticipa- 
tion of the time when life should cease ? 

" Nor can we suppose that the Moral Governor would ever 
have held out the promise of long life as a reward for virtue, 
which He certainly has done, if old age be such as to offer no 
higher pleasure than the anticipation of another existence ; for 
the fifth Commandment is — 'Honor thy father and mother, 
that thy days may be long,' etc. 

" To be sure, there are exceptions here as in every thing 
else. There no doubt have been individuals reduced to such a 



32 

state of wretchedness that death was the only desire of their 
hearts ; hut it must be remembered that under these circum- 
stances death is desired more as an end to all suffering in this 
world, than as an introduction to the happiness of a future. 

" The question, in the second case, assumes a nature which 
demands more serious consideration, as the affirmative is attend- 
ed with a much greater air of probability. It needs, however, 
but little observation to see, that, if there be any individuals 
who have arrived at such a pitch of moral culture and elevation 
of thought as to be entirely above the common pleasures of the 
world, and to find their most perfect bliss in the anticipation of 
the joys of a world where all shall be in harmony with their 
nature — if there be any such, that they must be few and far 
between. 

" But take the most pure and holy that ever lived upon 
earth ; may it not be urged that they have many new sources 
of pure and hallowed delight opened to them, although they 
have ceased to derive pleasure from those things which yield it 
to others % In the first place, what an unspeakable pleasure 
must be the consciousness of his own purity and holiness ; then 
how delightful to hold communion with his God and to be 
assured of His smiles ! What pleasure, too, must the external 
world yield to him, for in his eyes Nature is the Oracle of her 
Maker. Let him 

" ' Look on each trembling leaf and humble flower, 
The voiceless teachers of Almighty Power.' 



33 

" Every where he treads he finds something from which to 
draw new inspiration, for every where ' Nature, in eloquent 
speech, adores her God ! ' 

" Moreover, to one who is filled with the spirit of Him 
'Who went about doing good,' how joyous it must be to be 
surrounded with opportunities for the exercise of his benevo- 
lence ! Although to such a one it must be a pleasure to think 
of a time when the 'just shall be made perfect,' still we con- 
ceive that one who is truly possessed of the spirit of purity and 
holiness must derive far higher pleasure from the sources we 
have just mentioned, especially the last. 

" Harvard University, October 16, 1850. 

" Robert Troup Paine." 



Another Thesis, written about fourteen months before his 
death, may be introduced here, as corresponding with the fore- 
going, and with others which will follow at another part of the 
Memoir, in showing the habitual tendency of his thoughts, and 
the delicate constitution of his mind. 



34 



THESIS— AETICLE HI. 

" ' DIFFERENT LIVES OF MEN AND BEES.' 

" It was the lovely season of Summer when I wound my 
way along the mossy paths of a garden. It was that time of 
day most fitted to reading lessons of instruction in the Book of 
Nature, for 

" ' Morn, her rosy steps in the eastern clime advancing, 
Sowed the Earth with Orient pearl ; ' 

and the Sun-god, with his new-born rays, brought to light a 
thousand gems upon each grassy blade and each tender chalice. 
Soft and gentle were the zephyrs as they were wafted to me, 
laden with Flora's perfumes. Unbroken was the silence, except 
by the melodious robin-song, and the hum of the busy bee, which, 
unlike many of our species, had already commenced his work, 
and was sporting from cup to cup, sipping the nectarine juice. 

" Thus I sat me down upon a mossy bank to contemplate 
this little insect as he flew, unheedful of my presence, now to 
the honey-suckle, now to the closing primrose, and now to the 
ruddy clover. 

" In thee, thou tiny thing, how perfect is God's all-directing 
Power ! How completely dost thou fulfil the duties for which 
thy Maker formed thee ! From the very dawn of thy existence 



35 

all is action, all is life ! Hardly out of the chrysalis, you wing 
your way to flowery meads and gardens, to collect a precious 
store for the preservation of your community. With what 
unerring wisdom you construct your houses ; each a hexagon, a 
figure which, after the lapse of ages, some human sage found to 
he the most economical, hut which your species has used ever 
since ' Creation's dawn.' What fidelity, too, you manifest to 
the young, and those not your own ; for you see that each egg 
of your queen has an appropriate cell, and when the worm 
appears, with the most anxious and parental tenderness you 
supply it with daily nourishment, and when going into the aure- 
lia with what workmanlike skill you fasten the waxy portal ! 

" What fidelity ! What anxious care you manifest towards 
your sovereign ! In her seems to he wrapped up your life, 
your all ! When she weeps, you weep ; when she rejoices, you 
rejoice. Oh ! had man heen as faithful, as oheclient to his All- 
gracious Sovereign, no death, no sorrow would ever have laid 
their heavy hands upon Nature's fair and heautiful features, and 
happiness would have had universal sway. 

" But, little hee, although thy life is one of wonder, free 
from gnawing cares and weary trials, and spent amid the flow- 
ers and Nature's smiles, still I would he what I am ; for in man 
shines the glorious lamp of reason, which 

" ' Looks through Nature up to Nature's God, 

Pursues the chain which links th' immense Design, 
Joins Heaven and Earth and mortal and Divine.' 



36 

" How varied is the life of Man ! While thine pursues the 
same unwearied course, his is for ever changing, always progres- 
sive, constantly advancing towards perfection. Now man walks 
among the stars ; now mounts above the stars to Him Who 
made them ; now descends to Earth, and with acids and alka- 
lies, heat and cold, tortures Nature and finds out her secrets ; 
now hurries away on the wings of imagination ; now becomes 
lost in abstruse reasonings. What thou doest, thou doest 
blindly ; but man knows why and how he acts. He can fore- 
see and pursue or shun. He lives in the mighty past and the 
future and the present. Oh ! who shall measure the bounds of 
reason ! For this godlike gift, essence of Divinity, let grateful 
incense rise 

" ' To Thee, Whose Temple is all space, 
Whose Altar, Earth, Sea, Skies.' 

" Harvard University, December 27th, 1849. 

" Robert Troup Paine." 



The following Forensic, written about five months before 
his death, and like the foregoing a College exercise, will show 
his veneration for the Holy Scriptures. 



37 



FOEENSIC— ARTICLE IV. 

" ' IS THERE MORE TO BE GAINED OR LOST BY A NEW TRANSLATION 
OF THE SCRIPTURES FOR COMMON USE ? ' 

" Before entering upon the discussion of any question, it is 
of the utmost importance that we should understand its nature ; 
and in ascertaining this, two points are to be considered, the 
wording of the question, and on which side the presump- 
tion lies. 

" The words ' for common use ' may, at first sight, appear to 
be ambiguous, implying, as some would think, that which is 
actually adopted, actually in vogue. But the proper wording, 
if this meaning were intended, would be ' in common use ; ' 
while, as it stands, the natural interpretation seems to us to be, 
intended or designed for common use ; and in this light we 
shall consider it. 

" As to which side the presumption is, it is sufficient to re- 
mark, that in every question in which an innovation or change 
is concerned, the presumption is against it. Thus, in the ques- 
tion at issue, the change involved is a new translation of the 
Scriptures. The presumption, therefore, being in favor of the 
old, those who are adverse to a new translation have only to 
disprove the advantages brought forward by their opponents 



38 

in its favor, without being obliged to prove any particular dis- 
advantages. They are in a position similar to that of the crimi- 
nal at trial, who has merely to rebut the testimony brought 
against him. Having premised this, we are ready to enter 
upon the question, 'Whether,' &c. 

" The advocates of a new translation contend that our 
present version was made by ignorant men, and that conse- 
cpiently there is often an incorrect rendering of the original ; 
and to this they ascribe the many divisions and the various 
doctrines which exist in the Christian world. They propose, 
therefore, a new translation, in which the right signification of 
each word shall be given, the passages, which in our version are 
interpolations, shall be omitted, and those which exist in the 
original but not in our version, shall be introduced ; and that 
this, by gaining the acceptance of all, will do away with the 
schisms which divide the Christian Church. 

" Let us now observe, that most of the passages which are 
thought to be incorrect renderings involve doctrinal points, or 
are those where there are various readings in the original. 
Who, then, is to decide what is the right signification, what the 
correct reading ? ' The scholars,' is the answer. Very easily 
said. But when doctors disagree, who then for umpire ? Ah ! 
here, then, at the very threshold is a mighty obstacle. But 
few of the dreamers of this project seem to have remembered 
that the scholars themselves, the very men to whom they 
appeal as impartial judges, belong to the different bodies of 



39 

Christians whose very dividing points are the passages in 
question. 

" But even the few, who have not overlooked this objection, 
endeavor to get over it in a manner which leaves them about 
where they were before. They say, that if the scholars were to 
undertake a new translation of the Scriptures, they would look 
at these passages with an unbiassed view ; that they would free 
themselves from all sectarian opinion, and thus be able to arrive 
at the actually true signification of the disputed words ; and, 
with regard to different readings, be able to discriminate be- 
tween the true and the spurious. 

" It is easy, however, to see that this answer is founded 
upon a false process of reasoning ; because among all sects the 
great mass can show ' no reason for the faith that is in them,' 
but hold to particular doctrines from the influence of early edu- 
cation. They had been so taught, and therefore then particular 
faith. Hence it is argued that it may become so with all. 
But, while we find that with the ignorant it is only sectarian 
instruction which is the foundation of their belief, with the en- 
lightened and educated it is, for the most part, careful examina- 
tion and reflection. And this is particularly the case with the 
scholar in regard to those passages which involve doctrines that 
depend upon the disputed signification of some word, or upon 
different readings ; for he has adopted one of them as the true 
one, not like most of his sect from early habit, but because from 
a careful analysis of the original, and comparing authorities, he 



40 

lias been led to this conclusion ; while another, of equal learn- 
ing and abilities, has, by the same process, arrived at opposite 
conclusions. Is it not, then, absurd to maintain, that, when 
these scholars unite in making a new translation of the disputed 
words or passages, they will, or can, free themselves from the 
sectarian opinions which have been founded upon their under- 
standing of the disputed passages, and this understanding 
founded upon the most careful and accurate examination which 
their scholarship would enable them to make ? 

" It must be evident, then, if a new translation of the Scrip- 
tures were attempted, that scholars of each sect would insist 
upon the signification which they give to disputed words, or 
the readings which they adopt as being the correct ones, and 
that, consequently, the whole attempt would fail, or, each sect 
would have a version of its own. Take, as an instance, the 
word 'baptism,' upon the mere signification of which are 
founded two great and dividing doctrines ; the advocates of 
one contending that it should be translated ' to immerse,' those 
of the other ' sprinkle ' or some equivalent word. Now, can it 
be imagined that it will ever be possible for these equally able 
scholars to come to any agreement upon the subject ? 

" The same would also be the case with regard to interpola- 
tions and omissions ; the scholars of the different sects being 
here no less divided than as to the signification of certain 
words. And so as to different readings. 

" If, then, a new translation for common use be once 



41 

attempted, a precedent once set for tampering with the Bible, 
we shall soon see each sect provided with a separate version, in 
which not only the disputed words will be translated so as to 
suit then- peculiar views, and those readings retained which 
favor particular doctrines, but with regard to what are called 
interpolations and omissions, there will be the most mangled 
work. Nay, who knows but that, in process of time, when 
each sect shall have a translation of its own, individuals might 
claim this privilege, and thus the Bible be twisted and altered 
to suit the views and practices of each. 

" Before proceeding farther, it is necessary to bear in mind 
the wide distinction between the signification of words, or 
meaning in dictione, and the sense of words, or meaning extra 
dictionem. 

" Now, even if it were possible to decide to the satisfaction 
of all concerning the disputed signification of words, different 
readings, interpolations and omissions, still would the proposed 
advantage of the union and agreement of the sects be far from 
being realized ; as most of the different doctrines of the day, 
and some of them, too, upon which are founded the most 
violent divisions and sects, have nothing to do with the signifi- 
cation of any words, but are generally grounded solely upon 
their various senses. Instances occur in such passages as the 
following : ' In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was 
with God, and the Word was God.' ' I and my Father are 
One.' ' My Father is greater than I.' ' I do nothing of Myself, 



42 

but as the Fatter hath taught Me, I speak these things.' ' That 
all men should honor the Son even as they honor the Father.' 
Among these passages, and the like, are those which form the 
ground of belief of them who hold that our Savior was an infe- 
rior Being to God, and of them who believe Him to be a part 
of the Divine Essence ; two of the most conflicting and dividing 
doctrines of the day, yet founded upon the sense, not the signi- 
fication, of different words. In the passage 'Eyd> xal 6 Uarrjg 
sv eGfitv, I believe all are agreed as to the signification of the 
word e v ; yet as to its sense it is one of the most controverted 
iu the whole Bible, especially when taken in connection with 
other passages. So, also, in the passages which are rendered in 
our translation, ' This is my Body,' and ' This is my Blood,' 
upon the sense of the words are founded the two great doctrines 
of transubstantiation and non-transubstantiation. In the reply 
of our Savior to the regenerate malefactor, ' To-day shalt thou 
be with Me in Paradise,' upon the sense of the words rests very 
much the different doctrines with respect to the state of the 
soul immediately after death. 

" So we might go on to enumerate conflicting doctrines 
which depend solely upon the sense in which certain words are 
received. 

" Now, as the prerogatives of a translation extend merely to 
the signification of words, even if it were a practical possibility 
for this to be determined to general satisfaction, and thus to set 
at rest the division of opinions as to their signification, still it 



43 

would be impossible for a translation to determine the sense of 
words, and consequently to have any influence upon doctrines 
based upon them. 

" But, not only would an attempt at a new translation fail 
of the proposed advantage, but would be likely to be fraught 
with evils which would shake the whole fabric of the Church, 
and pour corruption through all the channels of Society. The 
practical results of each sect having a peculiar version, which 
we cannot but think to be the likely, if not the inevitable con- 
sequence of any serious attempt to tamper with our present 
translation ; its effects upon infidels, who are ever upon the alert 
for every disagreement among Christians ; and its effects upon 
many Christians themselves, who might be led to doubt the 
Inspiration of a Work which they see in so many different 
forms ; and also the loose morals which would be apt to result 
from the want of any fixed standard, are what can be better 
pictured by the mind than described in language. 

" Hitherto we have spoken more particularly of a new 
translation in its bearings upon doctrinal passages ; but there 
is another part of the Bible which also claims attention. It is 
the devotional. 

" Now, as a starting point, it is to be remembered, that, as 
there are forms of language which are peculiarly adapted to the 
outbreakings of pious devotion, so also these same forms are 
particularly calculated to awaken in others the same feelings by 
which they were originally prompted. How happily suited to 



44 

this end is the language employed in our translation of the 
hook of Psalms, and other books of like character. How beau- 
tiful are some expressions ! How sublime are others ! But 
alter the language even so as still to preserve about the same 
signification, and the whole charm may be gone. The body 
may remain without the soul. The stern features may be left, 
but the life-like expression, the oracle of the spirit, has fled. 
An example of this may be seen in some recent translations of 
the Psalms, the book of Job, and the Prophets, which, from the 
ability of the scholar, we presume are somewhat more verbally 
correct ; yet, in many passages where the words of our transla- 
tion are not employed, and where there is only a little variation, 
they are rendered almost entirely void of that high devotional 
and sublime spirit which characterizes the same in the received 
version. Shall we, then, to gain this proposed advantage of 
greater correctness, run the risk of making so great a sacrifice ? 
But even if gained at this sacrifice, can it be called greater 
correctness ? Is a portrait more correct which gives truly the 
peculiar and life-like expression of the countenance, or one 
which presents more exactly the characteristic features, but 
without that animated look which distinguishes the living from 
the dead ? Let every one answer for himself. 

" The ado which many make about verbal preciseness seems 
to arise from a mistaken opinion of the nature of language, in 
appearing to regard it as an end, when, in reality, it is only a 
means. What is language in itself ? Nothing. It is only 



45 

when viewed as a means of conveying ideas that it becomes of 
any value. It is not the channel which is of importance, hut 
the water that flows through the channel. In a translation of 
the Bible, especially of the devotional parts, that translation 
must be most correct which preserves the high and elevated 
spirit which constitutes then* peculiar value ; and since that is 
done in so admirable a manner in our present version, what 
reason can there be for a new ? 

" There are, however, other so called advantages of a differ- 
ent character, which, although as yet only proposed by a few 
individuals, may hereafter be urged with great vehemence ; as 
we have seen a cloud increase from ' the size of a man's hand ' 
till it overcast the whole heaven. One of these is making the 
diction of the Bible conform to that in every day use ; or, in 
other words, what some would call a more polished style. For 
instance, in speaking of Adam and Eve, instead of ' the man 
said unto the woman,' to render it — ' the gentleman said to the 
lady.' And, in addressing our Saviour, to make the Disciples 
say ' Sir,' and He, in addressing them, ' gentlemen ' or ' sirs ; ' 
and so to change all expressions which differ from our common 
idiom. 

" But, could even this be done, it would be one of the 
greatest evils, as it would deprive the Bible, in a great measure, 
of that air of sacredness and solemnity by which it is so happily 
distinguished from all other books, and reduce its diction, at 
once, to the frivolity of a novel. 



46 

" There are still other changes which some, from affectation, 
contend for ; a practical illustration of which we have sometimes 
heard from the pulpit ; as, for instance, instead of the word 
' damnation,' to use the word ' confusion ; ' and in the passage 
which now reads — 'If I make my bed in hell, behold Thou art 
there,' to render ' If I make my bed in the abyss,' or ' pit.' 
Although we cannot say there is any particular evil in this, still 
we cannot see any advantage. 

" Others, again, actuated by false modesty, are in favor of 
omitting certain words and passages which they fancy to be 
corrupting to the morals of youth. An expurgated edition of 
the Bible ! ' O tempora ! O mores ! ' The most we can say is, 
that it argues but little for the purity of their minds. 

" Of all the proposed advantages that we know of, that of 
the union of the sects is the most plausible, and the only one 
which at all deserves serious consideration. But, from the view 
we have taken of the matter, we find it impossible that they 
ever should unite in opinions ; and what is more, we believe it 
was purposely and wisely ordained that men should not think 
alike. But, although they may not unite in opinion, they may 
in friendship. 

" Let Christian charity, and noble liberality, be taught from 
the pulpit, and more good would result than even the most 
infatuated ever dreamed could be brought about by a new 
translation of the Bible. It is not scholastic union that is 
needed. It is Christian union ; a union not of opinions, but of 



47 

feelings ; and, this once obtained, God alone could estimate the 
blessings that would flow from it. 

" Harvard University, September 26th, 1850. 

" Eobeet Teoup Paine." 

His perseverance, as in his religious habits, was carried into 
whatever he undertook. His fidelity was unflinching. His 
friendships ardent and confiding. His enjoyments being of the 
most innocent kind, his heart was always buoyant and happy, 
and his countenance always denoted the serenity of his mind. 
His presence scarcely failed to diffuse contentment and cheerful- 
ness around him. It had been observed, however, within the 
last year, that he seemed now and then dejected, though very 
transiently, and without any known cause. It should be stated, 
also, that from his infancy to the last, whenever he was not 
employed in conversation, study, or amusement, his countenance 
put on a deep thoughtfulness, often bordering upon melancholy. 
This, indeed, was sometimes so strongly pronounced within the 
last two years, that his Mother occasionally inquired of him if 
any thing had occurred to disturb his happiness. His features 
would become immediately lighted up with a smile, and he 
would exclaim, — " Why, Ma, should you think that I am not 
happy ? There is nothing in the world to make me unhaj>py." 

Nature, as will be inferred from his writings, was the great 
source of his delights. He studied her book, especially as it is 
exhibited to all, and from his childhood. In his eleventh year, 



48 

in a letter now before his Parents to one of his young relatives, 
he says, — " "When I am sitting alone, a tear will sometimes 
come into my eyes when thinking of your delightful rambles in 
the country ; but as I go to my studies, that passes away, and 
all is joy and happiuess." In College he amused himself with 
Chemistry, as laying open the inorganic world, and was Presi- 
dent of the " Runiford Society," which has for its objects the 
cultivation of Chemical Science. Anioner his favorite Authors 
were such as reveal the physical and moral conditions of life. 
He was therefore much attracted by Physiology. History 
engaged his attention particularly. Shakspeare, also, was much 
read by him for the last year or two ; but he was never known 
to have read other dramatic writers, except as rendered neces- 
sary by the study of the German Language. Milton was his 
other principal favorite among the Poets, and he was familiar 
with " Paradise Lost " at the age of fourteen years. It may be 
stated, also, that he had as great an aversion to Novels as to 
the Stage. Scott alone could engage his attention. He took 
up " Chesterfield's Letters to his Son " at the request of a friend, 
but, as he stated to his Parents, he laid them aside on account 
of their duplicity and inmiorality, remarking, also, that the con- 
duct of the Son was a sufficient commentary upon the principles 
of the Father. He had heard so much of Jenny Lind, and of 
her benevolence, that he was attracted to her first concert at 
Boston, when he fancied that " there was somethiug angelic in 
her music," and could not refrain from attending the other two, 



49 

although he had not the usual allotment of taste for music, and 
it was therefore a matter of surprise to his Parents. A letter 
to his Mother, at the time, is descriptive of great enjoyment. 
This was about four months before his death, and near the time 
when he wrote the first of the Theses which occur in the 
Memoir (Article 2). 

The inquiring disposition of his mind was to investigate 
laws and principles, rather than details and abstract facts. He 
was not, however, imaginative. On the contrary, he was 
adverse to speculation, and submitted all propositions to the 
test of facts as far as they had been well ascertained. This gave 
to him a logical precision, and protected him against credulity. 
He had great ability for mental application, and great power of 
abstraction ; such, indeed, as are not often surpassed. He 
wrote with great rapidity, often saying to his Mother that " his 
thoughts outran his pen " ; and he never copied his compositions, 
either at the Grammar School or at Harvard University. His 
reverence of truth was so great that he would defend what was 
right in principle, however it might conflict with individual or 
public prejudice. In this respect his independence was unwa- 
vering, and it would probably have been carried through a 
longer life in the same fearless manner. The consciousness of 
his own purity was such that he would rarely attempt any 
defence of himself when erroneously suspected of having 
departed from the right ; but where he had not scrupulously 
fulfilled a duty, he would at once disclose it, though no instance 



50 

can be recollected which amounted to a fault, Although such 
occasions had been rare, and of a trifling nature, his Father 
wrote early to President Everett in regard to this singularity of 
his disposition ; that, if suspected of doing wrong, his silence 
might not be too readily construed against him ; but that he 
might depend upon his ready confession of any error. He had 
seemed always to his Parents to have been, as it were, spell- 
bound by every injunction delivered by our Saviour ; and that, 
in the foregoing respect, he acted in obedience to the example 
when Jesus "was accused of the chief priests and elders, He 
answered nothing." 

Robert's attachment to his Parents was unusually ardent, 
and his kindness and benevolence extended to every thing, as 
will appear from his writings. He had always a great reve- 
rence for old age, and was devotedly fond of his grandparents. 
A mildness of disposition, and great amiability, were his most 
conspicuous characteristics. To his Parents he was constantly a 
moral phenomenon, having proved himself to them to have 
been endowed with the highest order of virtues, and without 
fault or blemish. So great was his equanimity, that he was 
never known by them to have manifested anger, nor did he 
ever exhibit to them an act, or utter a word, of disrespect ; and 
this they have reason to think is true iu relation to all others. 
With his Seniors he manifested, from childhood, the dignity of 
a man, and joined in youthful ruirth with his equals, or engaged 
in simple sports with children to his latest day. This will 



51 

account, in a measure, for the production of the Poem which 
appears at the close of the Memoir. 

It has been seen, from his own writings, that his piety 
remained unalloyed to the last ; nor could it be entertained 
that there should have been a sudden declension in a case like 
the one before us, and where every other habit, and all his con- 
versation, continued to be distinguished for their excellence and 
purity. His Parents recur to this subject, as it is an important 
one, and as it appears from the Correspondence that Robert 
was anxiously deliberating upon his profession during the week 
prior to his death. Law and Medicine are alone mentioned, 
while Divinity had been his favorite object. It becomes proper, 
therefore, that this should be explained. He was fearful that 
the schisms in the Church would involve him in disquietude, 
and he turned with great aversion from what he considered a 
prevailing want of Religion in the Pulpit. This, however, was 
only recently manifested, and evidently grew out of his sensi- 
tiveness upon that subject ; and the conflict which was going 
on in his mind as to the choice of a profession was probably 
one of the causes of that overthrow of reason which led to his 
death. 

It appears, however, that he was thinking of Divinity for 
his profession to the last of his life. His Parents have this in- 
formation from their friend Miss Parker, obtained at an inter- 
view with her after the receipt of her letter which appears in 
the Memoir. Within a day or two of his death he asked her 



52 

opinion of his qualifications for the Pulpit, and remarked, at the 
same time, that his friends had expected him to study Divinity, 
hut that he was undecided about it. His Parents have no 
doubt that such would have been his choice, had his life been 
spared. Within a few days of his death, he remarked to his 
Mother that, " the profession of medicine had too many pains, 
and the law too little honesty." He was also told on the same 
occasion, that, if he wished to study a profession at Cambridge, 
to which place he was much attached, his Parents would re- 
move to that city, and live with him there ; that his Father 
would give up his practice, but retain his professorship. At 
this suggestion he manifested great pleasure. 

His Parents now approach the last days of then' son. He 
fell by an act against which, but a little before, he had recorded 
his solemn protest (Article 2), and which was at variance with 
every circumstance of his life. 

From what has already transpired there appears to have 
been a universal conviction of his insanity, and such was the 
verdict of the Coroner's Jury. It is not, therefore, so much an 
object, in printing the following correspondence, to strengthen 
this belief, as to show the abruptness of the seizure, and to pre- 
sent it as one of the startling problems of the human mind ; 
while, at the same time, the correspondence discloses the ha- 
bitual deportment of the Youth as manifested to the world, and 
embraces many details supplied by the Parents, which have 
been reserved for this part of the Memoir. These details, like 



53 

others in the Memoir, can derive an interest only from the light 
which they reflect upon the melancholy event, by showing the 
instantaneousness with which false perceptions will spring up 
without any other apparent cause than some obscure physical 
evil, and overthrow the supremacy of reason, and extinguish 
all the most hallowed associations of an enlightened and spot- 
less life. 

In the mean time it may be stated, as . will appear more cir- 
cumstantially in the correspondence, that Robert always pro- 
tected his health and his life with a carefulness which is very 
unusual at any age ; and at a late period he avowed this regard 
for life as a solemn duty. About two months before his death, 
he had an argument, in presence of his Mother, with some of 
his fellow-boarders at Cambridge, upon the duty of every man 
to protect his life under all possible circumstances which might 
threaten it. He insisted that it is not only the first law of Na- 
ture, but that life is the great final cause of God in creating the 
Universe ; and, therefore, to neglect the means of averting im- 
pending death is the greatest crime. We are justified, he said, 
in shooting down the highwayman, and, therefore, in all other 
modes of self-defence which are as free from criminality. 

At the close of the first term of his Senior year, he left 
Cambridge with his Mother, on the 16th of January, and after 
remaining at home till the 28th, he departed on a journey to 
Virginia, from which he returned to New- York twelve days 
before his death, which took place on the 8th of March. 



54 

The following letters, written during his absence, will show 
how he was employed, what the nature of his best enjoyments, 
though in the season of winter and in solitude, and what his 
latest attachments to life. 



ROBERT TO HIS FATHER. 

" Harper's Ferry, Va., 
" Saturday Morning, Feb. 1, 1851. 

" Dear Father :— Here we are, the cold weather and I, 
safe and sound. I arrived at Philadelphia in due time after I 
left you, putting up at the ' United States Hotel.' The next 
morning I spent in looking at the city. 

"The low stoops and white shutters presented a curious 
aspect. The latter brought to my mind New- York in former 
days. About as New- York was then Philadelphia is now, and 
when the latter becomes what the former now is, New- York 
will have overtaken London. Such is the course of improve- 
ment. I went to Fairmount. Although the appearance of the 
place is a burlesque upon its name, it contains the principal 
object in Philadelphia really worth seeing — the water- works. 
They consist essentially of eight huge water-wheels, each con- 
nected with a pump by which the water is forced up into a 
large basin excavated in the solid rock. The works are capable 
of forcing up 3,000 gallons a minute (4,320,000 a clay). They 
are worked eighteen hours a day ; so that the city consumes, 



55 

daily, 3,240,000 gallons. This shows that before many years 
the works will be very inadequate, unless they can be much 
enlarged. 

" At 3 o'clock I took the boat for Baltimore, had a delight- 
ful sail, arriving at half-past-six next morning. I visited, here, 
all the places of interest. The Washington Monument is a fine 
piece of architecture. It consists of a pedestal twenty feet high, 
which is ascended by twenty-eight steps. From this a shaft 
runs up one hundred and sixty feet, which has a flight of one 
hundred and ninety-eight steps. As there is no window all the 
way up, it seems quite dismal till one arrives at the summit, 
when a most glorious view opens upon him, where all the world 
seems lying below. Surmounting the shaft is a statue of Wash- 
ington, thirteen feet high. This terminates the monument, 
which is the pride of Baltimore, and, I believe, one of the finest 
pieces of architecture in this country. I went to the Cathedral, 
the largest in the United States. It is a fine building. It has 
about it no finical or ostentatious work. It is well lighted by 
windows in the dome ; but these are concealed from the ob- 
server so as to give an air of solemnity. I also visited the shot- 
tower, and saw the process of making shot. 

" Yesterday morning (Friday), at 8 o'clock, I took the cars, 
and arrived at this place at half-past-twelve. It lies imme- 
diately at the foot of two high bluffs, on either side of the Po- 
tomac. All yesterday afternoon I spent in climbing. When I 
reached the top of the bluff, I was well compensated ; for the 



56 

scene (although not -.what I had expected) is quite "beautiful, 
especially as you look up the valleys of the Shenandoah and 
Potomac ; and where are seen these united streams wandering 
among the hills I had expected to have found the scenery wild, 
hut it can scarcely be so considered. I expected to find the 
rivers foaming and dashing ; hut they pursue a gentle course, 
with wide and shallow beds, forming quite a beautiful hut not a 
wild scene. I said to the toll-gatherer, pointing to the bluff 
which overhung us — 'there must be a magnificent view up 
there ! '■ — • ' Yes,' said he, ' you have a fine view of the toivrf (an 
unsightly place) ; from which I inferred that it requires educa- 
tion to appreciate Nature. 

" You may form some idea of the weather, when I tell you 
I washed this morning, not in ice-water, but in water-ice. 

" To-day I leave for Winchester, where I take the stage for 
Weyer's Cave. 

"Your affectionate Son, 

" Robert Troup Paine. 

" P. S. The squirrel needs some walnuts, or hazel-nuts. 
She was out of them when I left."* 



* This squirrel had been a pet of his for many years before he entered College, 
and was often remembered in his letters from Cambridge. 



57 



ROBERT TO HIS MOTHER. 



" Harrisonburg, Va., Feb. 3, 1851. 

" Dear Mother : — Ah ! here I am, sitting by a wood fire, 
which looks as cheerful as you can imagine. 

" I wrote Pa from Harper's Ferry, from which I took my 
departure on Saturday ; went to Winchester, thirty-two miles, 
by railroad, for which I paid two dollars ; (did you ever hear 
of such a fare ?) At W. I staid over Sunday. Left W. this 
morning at three o'clock ; had a delightful ride by stage, sixty- 
nine miles, to this place. It was, unfortunately, cloudy, so as to 
debar me from a view of the mountains. We passed through 
the great Virginia Valley, on the bed of one of Pa's Lakes, 
much of which is very fine country. 

" I have now seen considerable of the slave population. 
They all appear happy ; but this argues for the worse. It 
denotes a most abject state of mind to be contented with 
slavery. This is partly owing to their natural inferiority, 
but greatly, I imagine, to the continued effects of slavery 
itself. 

" But there is something worse than slavery here. The 
great number of mulattoes and quadroons plainly bespeaks the 
prevalence of a greater crime, and one most disgusting in its 
nature ; which places many of the whites really lower than the 
blacks. Slavery is a strange institution for a country that 



58 

makes any pretension to Christianity or civilization. But this 
is too shocking for man's most savage state. * 

" There is another remarkable thing I have observed ; that 
all the Southerners, whom I have seen thus far, are very small 
eaters. The usual time spent in eating is — seven or eight 
minutes for breakfast, fifteen minutes for dinner, and five 



* In Robert's copy of the Rev. Professor Stuart's Pamphlet on Slavery, (see 
Article 1, page 21,) several passages are marked by him, with marginal comments. 
Among them is the following paragraph and comment : 

" An intermeddling with civil relations or rights would have been deemed sedi- 
tion. Slavery was one of these relations. Hence, if Christ, or Paul, or Peter, had 
said to masters, ' Set your slaves immediately free,' the answer would have been, 
' Who made thee a ruler or a judge over us ? Cease to preach sedition, or we will 
immediately bring you before the magistrate.' There were always masters enough 
ready to say and do this ; and then, what was to become of the infant cause of Chris- 
tianity ? The whole power of the Roman government would have been brought 
down upon it, to crush it in the bud, and never to suffer it again to rise up." 
Page 55. 

Robert did not] think that it was any fear of such a consequence that deterred 
Christ and his Apostles from interfering with slavery ; and he wrote the following 
comment on the margin of the pamphlet : 

" Can we suppose, for a moment, that He Who could command more than twelve 
legions of angels could act under the influence of fear of any earthly tribunal '. What 
became of Christianity, let me ask Dr. Stuart, when the whole world was arrayed 
against it, and the whole force of despotic power was brought to crush it i Did it 
not float like a cork upon the waters of tribulation ? But does not St. Paul say, ' Be 
not ye servants of men ' ? Dr. Stuart says nothing about this." 

Farther on in the Pamphlet (page 1 1 2), Dr. Stuart urges the education of young 
blacks. Here Robert exclaims, in the margin, " High and noble sentiments ! " 



59 

minutes for supper ; and I am not exaggerating when I say a 
Virginian does not appear to eat much more in a week than a 
Northerner eats in a day. 

" Weyer's Cave is fourteen miles from here. I shall set 
out to-morrow morning at six o'clock, on horseback, as there 
are no public conveyances. 

" Your affectionate son, 

" Robert Troup Patjste." 



ROBERT TO HIS FATHER. 

" "White Sulphur Springs, Va., 
"February 9, 1851. 

" Dear Father : — I arrived here last night, and was glad 
to get a letter from Ma saying you were both well. I wrote 
from Harper's Ferry and Harrisonburg. 

" Since my last I have made quite a progress in my journey, 
and have seen what I have long wished to see, Weyer's Cave. 

" It is indeed a curiosity. Although in extent it is not to 
be compared with the Kentucky Cave, it is said to be superior 
in the beauty and variety of its formations. Its extent is 1600 
feet, and it contains twenty-three chambers, most of which have 
taken names from the fanciful forms they exhibit. 

" The first room is the ' Statuary.' As you enter this, you 
see before you a thick cluster of stalagmites, which, at a little 
distance, present very much the appearance of statues. Farther 



60 



on, you come to ' Solomon's Temple ' ; it should be Palace, as it 
is named from an immense throne, some forty feet high. Just 
to the left is a very beautiful formation, representing a water- 
fall. The great mass is covered with a brown incrustation, 
while down its sides is the pure carbonate of lime, of the 
appearance of foaming water. This is one of the finest things 
in the Cave. Going to the other end of this room, you learn 
something new concerning the ' Wise Man.' You learn that he 
was a good marketer ; for, looking into ' Solomon's Meat House,' 
you see depending from the ceiling a fine 'Leg of Mutton.' 
The brown stalactite representing the lean portions, and the 
white the fat. The resemblance is perfect. 

" In the ' Diamond Room,' aloft in the crags of the rocks, is 
a formation called the ' White Crane.' The resemblance here, 
also, is perfect. 

" In the ' Ball Room ' is a stalactite formation called the 
'Bass-Drum,' which, when beaten with the fist, is capable of 
emitting the various tones of that instrument ; so that, when a 
ball is held in this apartment, it is played to accompany the 
band. On the opposite side is a large Gallery, where seats can 
be placed for spectators. 

" In the ' Armory ' is a large stalactite called the ' Shield of 
Ajax.' It is at an angle of about forty-five degrees with the 
ceiling, and is one of the most wonderful things in the cave. 
The question is, how did it form at that angle ? I have not time 
now to tell you my theory, but will do it when I get home. 



61 

"The principal apartment is ' Washington's Hall,' 257 feet 
long. In the centre of this is a large statue, which you imagine 
to be "Washington's. In another part is a large formation 
resembling the wing of an Eagle. With singular appropriate- 
ness, the hall also contains a stalactite in the shape of an 
' Inverted Crown.' 

"The last chamber goes by the name of 'Jefferson Hall.' 
This contains a stalagmite of immense dimensions, which has 
received the name of the 'Tower of Babel.' On one side it 
resembles that as much as any thing ; but on the other you 
have before you a beautiful cascade. In another part of the hall 
is a stalactite resembling a huge ' Oyster Shell,' being at quite 
an angle with the ceding. At some distance from this, among 
a thick cluster of stalagmites, is a delightful spring of water. 

" The Cave abounds, every where, with Gothic structures, 
and drapery, often arranged in the most graceful folds. In one 
room this is so abundant that it is known as the ' Tapestry 
Room.' 

" Your feelings wlide in these submundane regions are those 
of mingled solemnity and wonder ; of solemnity, as you now work 
your way through the dark and narrow passages, sometimes 
nearly creeping ; now, find yourself in an immense hall, where 
the rocks, towering one above another, are lost in the gloom 
above ; now listen to the regular pattering of the droppings 
from the ceiling, and now direct your attention to the voice of 
the guides reverberating through the hollow chasms ; of won- 



62 

der, as you now survey the varied formations around you, some 
of them of the most fanciful shapes ; now reflect that, although 
some of the masses are immense, yet they were all formed by 
the gradual dropping and evaporation of water, which goes on 
so slowly that scarcely any alteration can be perceived since the 
discovery of the Cave in 1804. This, too, gives you some idea 
of time. 

" I leave here for the Natural Bridge to-morrow morning at 
four o'clock (eighty miles). 

" Your affectionate Son, 

" Robert Troup Paine." 

ROBERT TO HIS FATHER. 

" Washington, February 17, 1851. 

" Dear Fathee : — I wrote Mother last week from the 
Natural Bridge, and gave her as good an account as I could of 
that grand object.* I left there Thursday, and stayed at Rich- 
mond Saturday night. Left R. yesterday morning, and arrived 
here about six o'clock last evening, where I found Green and 
another Classmate awaiting my arrival at the wharf. 

" I have a fine room at the ' National,' for which I am much 
indebted to Green, as he waited a day on purpose to save it 
for me. 

* Tliis Letter has not been received ; but one written from the Natural Bridge 
to bis Classmate, Mr. Browne, appeal's in another part of the Memou - . 



63 

" Every nook and corner of every Hotel is taken (some 
rooms having three, or four occnpants), and the private houses 
are also becoming filled. I consider myself extremely fortunate ; 
as this is the great Hotel of the City, where Clay and many 
other distinguished men board. Samuel has left this morning. 

" To resume the history of my journey. I stayed two days 
at the Cave. I should like to have stopped much longer to 
have reconnoitred more fully this interesting object, and as I 
had, too, most agreeable quarters at Mr. Mohler's, who is an 
exceedingly attentive, intelligent and worthy man. I brought 
away a bag full of minerals. 

" Thence I left for the White Sulphur Springs (one hundred 
and twenty miles). 

" The first object of particular interest was the Warm 
Springs. The stage stopped here an hour and a half. I should 
have stopped a day ; but in that case I should have been 
detained three days. The temperature of the water is ninety- 
eight degrees. The water contains considerable sulphuretted 
hydrogen, and several other substances. It forms a brown 
stone-deposit, of which I have a specimen. There are several 
spouts inclosed in basins, the largest of which is one hundred 
and twenty feet in circumference and seven or eight feet deep 
(a magnificent bath), and the volume of water is so large as to 
renew it every half hour. Perhaps nowhere else in the world 
can be seen so large a quantity of heated water. It is an 
astonishing sight. 



64 



" Five miles from the Warm are the Hot Springs, which 
have a temperature of one hundred and six degrees and will 
cook an egg. Here, also, are several spouts, but the volume of 
water is much smaller, and the principal bath is only seventy- 
five feet in circumference. This water contains no sulphuretted 
hydrogen, and forms no deposit. The situation of both is in 
mountain glens, but that of the Warm is far pleasanter. 

" I arrived, at length, at the far-famed White Sulphur, 
where I stayed over Sunday. It is a place very void of inte- 
rest, completely shut up by the Alleghanies, which are usually 
called mountains, but which, iu fact, are only moderate sized 
hills. They cut off entirely your view, without having any 
attraction in themselves. The place is remarkable only for its 
odorous waters. Conceive a basin four or five feet in diameter 
and three or four deep, filled with water which has stood over 
the fire some minutes, and impregnated with the essence of 
decayed eggs ; conceive, also, this water depositing upon the 
leaves and stones in its channel a soft white substance, and you 
have all that can be said of the White Sulphur. 

" On my way to the Bridge I got out of the stage to taste 
of the Sweet Spriug water. I may compare it to soda-water 
which has stood over the fire till its temperature is raised to 
seventy or eighty degrees. 

" To-morrow I visit Mt. Vernon. 

" Your affectionate Son, 

" Kobert Troup Paine." 



65 

Robert returned to New- York greatly delighted with his 
journey. He now employed himself actively in visiting his 
friends ; and the day on which he left he was attracted to an 
elegant Cosmorama, and was so much delighted with the natu- 
ral views that he urged his Mother to go and enjoy the specta- 
cle as soon as her health would admit. One of his last move- 
ments was that of a visit to his Mother's Portrait, which was 
then in the hands of the Artist. While at home he wrote, also, 
the Article, already mentioned (page 28), for a "Washington 
Newspaper. 

After spending three days at home, he hurried back to 
Cambridge on the 26th of February. His Parents suggested 
to him, that, " as this was his last term at College, and near the 
end of the week, he had better remain at home till Monday," 
the 3d of March ; but he was desirous, as he always had been, 
of being promptly at his post, " on the clay when the term 
began," which was the 2 7th of February. He remarked, also, 
that he " should be at home again soon " (during the short vaca- 
tion in May) ; and it was his Father's intention to visit him at 
Cambridge as early as the middle of March. On parting with 
his Mother, he said to her, — " Don't grieve, Mother, for I shall 
see you again in May." On riding down to the boat, which 
was to carry him on his way, he expressed great apprehension 
about his Mother's health, which was much impaired, and said 
to his Father, — " Come early to Cambridge, as I shall be 
anxious to see my Grandmother" (who was at Haverhill, forty 



66 

miles distant). " Be at Cambridge on a Saturday, as I can then 
go with you to Haverhill and return to Cambridge on Monday, 
so that I shall not be absent from any College duties." Soon 
after reaching Cambridge, it was his intention to have written 
upon one of the " Boylston Prize-questions," and to have for- 
warded the Article to his Mother for the purpose of being 
coj)ied by her. 

On reaching Cambridge, he addressed to his Mother the 
following letter. 

" Cambridge, February 27, 1851. 
" Dear Mother : — I arrived in Cambridge this morning 
all safe and sound. 

" Every body is glad to see every body again. Mrs. Clarke 
and Miss Parker make many inquiries after you and Pa. * 

" Nothing new. Tell Pa that I left his cleaning-rod (gun- 
rod) upon a chair in my bedroom. 

" I think you will get the letter from the Natural Bridge, as 
a letter has arrived here which I wrote from that j)lace. 
" Your affectionate Son, 

" Robert Troup Paine." 

Both of his Parents had subsequently addressed him 
letters. His Mother's was filled with congratulations on the 

* Mrs. Clarke is the widow of a Clergyman, and with whom Robeit had long 
boarded. It was also in this happy and enlightened family that his Mother had 
resided. 



67 

bright prospects before him, and the admirable reputation 
which he had already won for himself. The first of these 
letters was received by him on the 3d of March, and the other 
on the 5th or 6th. The following is the one written by his 
Father. The latter part refers to a newspaper article which 
Robert had inclosed, without comment, in his letter to his 
Mother. 



"New-York, March 2, 1851. 

" My Dear Robert : — We were glad to receive your letter 
of the 27th, yesterday, and to hear of your safe arrival. The 
relaxation you have enjoyed will give you great vigor for your 
studies, upon which I suppose you have entered with renewed 
zeal. A little time more, and you will be upon a new theatre 
of life. I am rejoiced to know that your opportunities have 
been well improved, and that you have laid the foundation for 
future usefulness and fame. That has been my great aim ever 
since you came into being. The gratifying prospect contributes 
much to maintain your Mother's health. She has begun a 
letter to you, and had intended to have finished it this evening, 
but has been interrupted by visitors. Her general health is 
very good, and I think that the iodine is having a good effect 
upon the local affection. 

" As to the article from the newspaper, it is very well writ- 
ten ; but it does not relate to the subject which it professes to 
treat. It simply discusses the abstract question as to our right 



68 

of enslaving the Negro. Every one will agree with the writer. 
There is no difference of opinion between him and all intelligent 
slaveholders. It is, however, but a mere piece of sophistry. 
The question should have been connected with the considera- 
tion of slavery as it exists in this countiy, and it would then 
have appeared that there is no mode of extricating ourselves 
from the evil without incurring others of a thousand-fold greater 
magnitude. Not only does every body agree with the writer 
upon the abstract question, but the laws of the United States 
interdict the introduction of slaves from abroad, and even their 
traffic by Americans with foreign countries, under the penalty 
of death. 

" Your affectionate father, 

"Maettw Paine." 



The next information they had of their son was by tele- 
graphic message, announcing his death on the 8th of March. 

His remains were brought to New- York, and entombed in 
St. Paul's Church-yard,* followed by a large concourse of 
friends. 

The funeral services were performed at St. Mark's Church 
by his early friend, the Rev. Dr. Anthon. 

Through the sympathy and kindness of the Kev. Dr. An- 



* They will be ultimately removed to Mount Auburn Cemetery, at Cambridge, 
which was his favorite walk. 



69 

thon, the following obituary notice appeared in the newspapers, 
and in Dr. Reese's " New-York Medical Gazette." 



"THE LATE ROBERT TROUP PAINE. 

" The sudden death of Mr. Paine, in the prime and bloom 
of youth, is one of those dispensations of a wise and inscrutable 
Providence which falls with overwhelming weight upon surviv- 
ing friends, but most especially within that domestic circle of 
which he was the sole earthly hope and delight. Memorials of 
the departed, under such circumstances, are ofttimes viewed as 
pictures drawn from fancy, without any original in real life. 
But in this case, one who was no stranger to his worth, asks the 
melancholy privilege of joining in the great and very sore 
lamentation around his early grave, and offering a brief testi- 
mony to his character. 

" He was known to me from his first years, as an only child, 
of delicate frame, more than once restored to parental watchful- 
ness and care, as it were, from the brink of the grave, and with 
improving health, exhibiting very soon remarkable intelligence, 
thirst for knowledge, and power of mental acquisition. Few 
youths sooner form habits of like application, or have devoted 
themselves more keenly and successfully to study, and very few 
can leave behind them a more vivid recollection of filial rev- 
erence and affection such as his, in that home where hopes have 
been crushed, which here can never be revived. Previous to 



70 

his leaving this city for Harvard University, about four years 
since, he frequently attended at St. Mark's Church, and our 
acquaintance strengthened. He came at times to my study, 
and pleased me so much by his general deportment, thoughtful 
cast of mind, and pious sentiments and feelings, that I felt war- 
ranted and encouraged in drawing his attention to the subject 
of the Christian ministry. 

" At Harvard University his studies were prosecuted with 
his accustomed ardor and diligence, whilst his whole conduct 
was marked by that amiable temper, and high-minded upright- 
ness and integrity which impart such interest to the youthful 
character. His course, indeed, was uniformly such as to justify 
the fondest expectations of those whose love circled around his 
existence, until within the past year, when my young friend 
manifested symptoms of mental depression, but which, however, 
was of short duration. With recovered health and spirits, and 
after spending a part of the past winter at the south, he had 
but recently returned to Cambridge, full of hope and ardor, to 
complete his term as an undergraduate of the Senior class. 

" It was there that the mournful calamity occurred, on the 
8th instant, which has plunged so many into the bitterness of 
grief; a calamity, so far as those can judge who knew him best, 
resulting probably from the great and undue tension put upon 
the mental powers by youthful effort, anxious to win the closing 
honors of a bright academic course, and to bear its laurels to 
the home which he so highly prized, and where he was so 



71 

dearly loved. Many, very many, are the friends whose hearts 
have been wrung by the sad tidings of his death. It is but 
due to them, and to the memory of my young friend, that I 
should say that I have heard from both of his Parents the most 
earnest declarations that their Son has ever been, ' in his reli- 
gious views, in morals, and in habits, all that they could have 
desired, and that they can recall no instance of his departure 
from the strictest course of probity and virtue.' 

" Under a bereavement so desolating as this, man feels his 
utter weakness to help the broken in heart. There is only one 
source of consolation and support. May it be tasted in its 
fulness and richness by those who need it most. ' God is our 
refuge and strength and very present help in time of trouble. 
Let us return unto the Lord, for Lie hath torn and He will heal 
us / He hath smitten and He will bind us up. 1 

" H. Anthon. 

" St. Mark's Kectory, March 13th, 1851." 



" The following Thesis, written and handed in to the Profes- 
sor only two days before his death, is introduced as a farther 
confirmation of the absence of all premeditation of self-de- 
struction. 



T2 



THESIS— ARTICLE V. 

" 'a pictueesque country in the eye of a native and a 
stranger.' 

" Althouc-h it cannot be said of the beauties of Nature that 
familiarity begets dislike, it needs but little experience to know, 
that, even those scenes which present the greatest charms to 
the Stranger, lose somewhat, at least, of their interest, as he 
becomes accustomed to them. 

" The appreciation of Nature, however, seems to depend 
more upon the character and mental powers of the individual 
than upon any extraneous circumstances. To a mind that has 
been unfolded by education, exercised in its contemplative or 
imaginative faculties, Nature is ever, and every where, a Theatre 
of delight. 

" The beauties of American scenery, and the sublimities of 
the Himalaya or the Alps, afford a thousand subjects for the 
pen of a Milton, or the pencil of an Apelles. To such minds 
they can never fail of the deepest attraction, and must for 
ever call forth the loftiest flights of genius ; while to men of 
reflection a scene of beauty or grandeur is pregnant with the 
seeds of thought, ' with whose beauty, if they, being delighted, 
took them to be gods, let them know how much better the 
Lord of them is, for the first Author of Beauty has created 
them.' 



73 

" On the other hand, external Nature has a very different 
interest to him who has been deprived of opportunities to 
develope his mental faculties. He looks upon the majestic oak, 
and the reverend elm, whose trunks contain the pith of two 
hundred summers, only to estimate the pecuniary value of the 
wood. Beyond this they are unworthy of his notice. The 
grandest, sublimest portions of Nature are observed by him 
ouly to calculate how far they will contribute to his bodily sub- 
sistence. Yonder wild and toweriug mountain is considered by 
him only with reference to its mineral treasures ; or he casts 
upon it a silent look of regret that its rugged sides afford no 
pasture for his flocks. Pressed by the iron hand of necessity 
and want, his mind is low and grovelling, his desires sordid, his 
ideas material (if I may use the expression). Beyond this, 
nothing has any interest for him. The charms, the poetry of 
Nature, are unthought, undreamed of, a mere nonentity ! ! 

" A very good illustration of this is said to be seen on the 
bark of a tree near Niagara Falls, where are recorded the reflec- 
tions of a Clergyman upon the stupendous scene before him, 
followed by those of a tailor, who exclaims, — ' Oh ! what a 
place to sponge a coat ! ' 

" Not long since I stopped at Harper's Ferry, to observe the 
scenery where the Potomac and Shenandoah pass through the 
Blue Ridge. The place from which the best view could be had 
was a very high and steep bluff, on the opposite side of the 
Shenandoah. "While paying toll to cross the river, I made 



n 



some exclamation to the man as to the view I should have from 
the top of the bluff (at the same time pointing to it). ' Yes,' 
said he, 'you will have a very good view of the town /' which 
consists of a few humble dwellings. 

"The same thing is observable from the fact, that many, 
living near some of the grandest Works of Nature, have never 
visited them. There are said to be many who have long 
resided within a few miles of Niagara Falls, who have not the 
curiosity even to have seen them once. 

" "When, lately, I visited Weyer's Cave, wending along on 
horseback through a strange country, and when within five 
miles of the Cave, I was obliged to inquire my way of three 
inhabitants of that region. They were all ignorant of there 
being such a place, and one of them told me he did not know 
of any man by the name of Weyer's Cave. 

" If we examine the facts which present themselves to every 
traveller, and the principles which I have deduced, I think we 
are justified in saying that the insensibility so often displayed 
where Nature abounds with works which arouse the soul of the 
enlightened man, arises not from familiarity, but from a much 
deeper cause — -the mental character of the individuals. In 
wild and sequestered spots, where Nature presents the glories 
of her outward form, there is always the untutored mind, — 
human nature in its lowest condition. 

" Familiarity, to be sure, as I before said, may exert some 
influence. Let the educated man, of whatever fancy, or occu- 



75 

pation, pass a long series of years at Niagara Falls, he must 
ultimately lose some of the interest which enchanted him at 
first ; but the scene would never cease to be food for a most 
glowing imagination, a subject for the deepest contemplation. 
That which wears away is merely that which is due to 
novelty. 

" So, on the other hand, transplant an ignorant Irishman 
from his hut to the glories of the Tropics, or to the grand 
Alpine scenery, some degree of surprise might come over him 
at first ; but he would remain a stranger for ever to those 
higher emotions which are felt by the educated man. 

" Cambridge, March 6th, 1851. 

" Robert Troup Paine." 

The following is the Correspondence to which reference has 
been already made. The Letters from Cambridge form the 
most important part of the Memoir, as showing how well 
Robert's habits corresponded with the principles which pervade 
his writings, and as it is rather the life of an individual about 
which we are interested, than the manner of his death ; though 
the Letters reflect a consolatory light upon the latter. 



76 



EXTRACT OF A LETTER FROM MRS. IT. J. CLARKE (THE LADY WITH 
WHOM ROBERT BOARDED) TO HIS MOTHER. 



" Cambridge, Mass., March 12, 1851. 

" Dear Mrs. Patxk : — It is with a trembling heart and 
hand that I take my pen to address a few lines to you on the 
subject of your late severe tiial and bereavement. Conscious 
of my utter inability to impart any consolation to a heart 
so deeply affected as yours, I can only assure you that I have 
seldom, if ever, had my sympathies so deeply drawn forth, and 
that I should be rejoiced as well as relieved, could I in any way 
administer to your comfort. Time, and the blessing of God, 
will open high sources of consolation, and pour the balm of 
holy resignation over your wounded spirit. 

" Perhaps it may be a melancholy satisfaction to you to 
hear the little that I have to relate of Robert's conduct and 
appearance during the short time we were permitted to have 
him with us. 

" On the morning of his return I met him a short distance 
from the house, in the Appian Way. He was just from the 
cars, with his carpet-bag and band-box, coming to the house, 
looking very bright and happy. I thought I never saw him 
look better. I spoke a few minutes with him, and he then 
went on to the house. I came home in about an hour, and 



11 

found him taking some refreshment, and talking with Miss 
Parker. He was very social, and we both remarked after he 
went out, how pleasant it seemed to have him come back look- 
ing so cheerful and healthy. And such he continued to be 
during the short time he continued with us. He passed several 
evenings with us, and always appeared happy. One evening 
when M. and his wife were here (a Lawyer of Boston and. son 
of Mrs. Clarke), he and Robert had a long conversation on law 
subjects, in which both of them seemed to take an interest. 
The next day Robert told me he thought he should stay with 
me three years longer, as he thought it likely he should enter 
the law-school. At another time, when E. and my son J.'s wife 
were here, he passed most of the evening with us in the most 
pleasant and social manner (the evening preceding the day of 
his death). On his going away, Rebecca said to my son, ' How 
well and how pleasant Mr. Paine appears : I never saw him so 
interesting.' Miss Parker and myself had both made nearly 
the same remark before. He gave us a very interesting account 
of his tour during vacation, relating various incidents that 
occurred, and making many interesting remarks ; and this state 
of things continued even on the fatal day that closed his 
earthly career. He seemed to enjoy every thing around him. 

" On Saturday morning, the last time I saw him (the day 
of his death), he came in to breakfast rather later than usual. 
The other students were going out .as he came in. I was at the 
table alone with him. He made some little excuse, saying he 



78 



believed be was rather late ; but nothing strange or peculiar 
appeared in his manner or conversation. He sat some time, 
talking on various subjects. On leaving the dining-room, he 
told me he was going to Boston. * He then stopped a little 
while in the parlor, talking with Miss Parker. He remarked 
to her that if there was a little more snow, he would give her a 
,\lci(jh-ride. He was perfectly natural and easy, and his conver- 
sation as pleasant as ever. 

" I did not look for him much on Saturday ; but when he 
did not appear on Sunday, at noon, I felt somewhat surprised 
(though not alarmed), as he was seldom, if ever, away on that 
day. Still, it did not seem strange that he should have been 
persuaded to stay at his Uncle's (in Boston) over Sunday. But 
when Monday morning came and he did not appear, I could 
not help expressing my fears that something had happened to 
him, and wished some one would go to his room (in the Col- 
lege) and see what had become of him. But, before our 
breakfast was over, the dreadful intelligence of his death had 
reached us ; " etc. 

" I cannot express to you the consternation and terror that 
seized upon me. It seemed to me it was not, it could not 
be so." 

" I can remember him ^only as he appeared the last time I 
saw him, cheerful, contented, and happy. Such, it seems to me, 






* There can be no doubt of this intention, as he had the utmost abhorrence of 
falsehood. 



79 

he must have continued to be up to a short time before his 
death ; when some sudden and unaccountable impulse seized 
his mirld and hurried him into Eternity. 

" "With sentiments of the deepest sympathy for yourself 
and husband, I am, dear Mrs. Paine, 

" Your sincere and sorrowing friend, 

" M. J. Clarke." 



LETTER FROM MISS PARKER (RESIDING IN MES. CLARKE'S FAMILY) 
TO MBS. PAINE. 

" Cambridge, March 13, 1851. 
"My Dear Mrs. Paine : — My spirit sinks and my heart 
aches, as I take my pen to write. Oh, my dear friend, most 
feelingly do I sympathize with you under this afflicting dispen- 
sation, — the loss of your dear Robert, and our dear Robert. 
We all loved him ; but, till his death we knew not how much. 
I know it is not in the power of human friendship to soothe 
sorrow like yours, whose heart is breaking with grief for a 
loved and only child. I can only tell you how tenderly, how 
sincerely I feel for you and his afflicted Father. Words cannot 
express the shock we felt when the heart-rending intelligence 
reached us. But, as Mrs. Clarke has, in her letter, given you 
all the information she could, I will not dwell on those circum- 
stances which she has related ; but must say, he appeared after 



80 

his return to Cambridge, in perfect health and very happy. 
His Southern tour had been very pleasant, and he gave us very 
interesting accounts of the places he visited, and the curiosities 
he saw. On Saturday morning (the day of his death) he came 
into the parlor and talked some time, as he used to do when 
you were here. I saw nothing unusual in his appearance at the 
time. Pie was in very good spirits and very happy. Oh, had 
I known it was the last time I was to have seen him, how 1 
should have treasured up every word he spoke. He appeared 
remarkably pleasant, so much so that Mrs. Clarke and myself 
spoke of it after he left. He went out, saying that he should 
not come to dinner, for he thought of going to Boston. His 
absence did not create in me any fears for his safety, as I 
supposed he was making a visit at his Uncle's, and being the 
first since his return to College, had made it longer than usual. 
I wish it were in my power to say something to comfort you ; 
but this I can say, he bore an unblemished character, and was 
beloved by all who were accpiainted with him. A gloom over- 
cast the College, and an expression of sadness was on every 
face. Oh, how sad a thing it is. That you and your husband 
may be supported under this great bereavement, is the sincere 
wish and prayer of your sympathizing friend, 

" M. Parkee." 



81 



LETTER FROM MRS. E. C. CLARKE TO ROBERTS MOTHER. 

" Eoxburt, Mass,, March 27, 1851. 

" Mr Dear Mrs. Paine : — You will not, I hope, consider 
me intrusive, in addressing you in a season of so much sorrow. 
I should not have ventured, hut that I know, from Dr. Paine's 
letter to Mrs. Clarke, with what a yearning spirit you must 
long for any knowledge, even the most trifling, of the last few 
days of a son so loved and deeply lamented. I can only add 
one slight link to the chain of your fond recollections. 

" I passed the evening previous to your son's death with Dr. 
Clarke, at Cambridge. We sat down to a very cheerful tea- 
table with Robert, who answered pleasantly all my interrogato- 
ries with regard to the part of the country through which he 
had been travelling. He followed us into the parlor, where he 
remained during the time we stayed, having my little boy upon 
his knee all the time, frolicking with him, and giving him the 
Latin for various sentences, such as good boy, &c, &c. He was 
uncommonly cheerful. As we were leaving the house, my little 
son asked me for my fur cuffs. I drew them immediately off, 
when Robert said, — ' What ! Haswell, let your mother be cold 
that you may be warm ! ' They were the last words I ever 
heard him utter, save — ' Good night,' as I closed the door ; 
but their echo will remain in my memory always. They were 
the utterance of a warm and affectionate heart. 



82 

" We all sympathize most deeply with yourself and husband 
in your bereavement, and commend you most fervently to Him 
"Who ' tempers the wind to the shorn lamb.' That you may be 
sustained under your affliction is the earnest wish of yours 

" Most respectfully, 

" R. C. Clarke." 



extract of a letter from mr. samuel a. green (who had been 
Robert's chum during the whole of their college life) to 

DR. PAINE. 

" Cambridge, March, 1851. 

" My Dear Sir : — I hope you will excuse my apparent neg- 
lect in not writing to you before this time ; but the shock that 
I experienced has unfitted me for so doing. I will now state to 
you what dear Robert's actions were just previous to his death. 

" I had observed nothing in his conduct during the short 
period of this term that he was with me differing from what it 
had always been. In fact, he was in better spirits, if possible, 
than I had ever known him to have been ; speaking frequently 
of his trip during vacation into Virginia, and of the enjoyments 
it had afforded him. Other persons had also noticed this. He 
had even stated what his intentions were in regard to his pro- 
fession ; saying that he should probably study Chemistry for a 
while, and then, perhaps, adopt the profession of Medicine. 
(See page 51.) 



83 

" It had always been our practice for the one who should 
be up first in the morning to awake the other ; and, on the 
morning of the 8th inst. (the day of his death) I arose first 
and awoke Robert. He said it was so stormy abroad he should 
not attend prayers, and desired me to do the same. I said 
immediately that I would do the same as he did. I then 
returned to my bed, and we conversed together for the space 
of half an hour upon various subjects ; each one in his own bed 
during this time. (There were two bed-rooms connected with 
the sitting-room.) Among other things, he said that he was 
going into Boston in the afternoon, to spend Sunday at his 
Uncle's. At half-past seven I got up and went to breakfast, 
and returned a few minutes before eight o'clock. I recited at 
eight and he at nine o'clock ; the class being divided alphabeti- 
cally into two divisions. When I left him he was in the act of 
dressing, and when I returned from recitation he was blacking 
his boots. This was, perhaps, at about a quarter of nine. In 
the course of two or three minutes he went out ; and when he 
returned we talked together for nearly an hour, — he appearing 
perfectly sane and natural. I remember, distinctly, of his 
speaking of inviting a few members of the Rumford Society to 
our room after the meeting on Monday evening, the 10th inst. 
He had had sent to him a bushel of nuts from Groton, and I had 
received a barrel of apples. He said that these would be nice 
to give our friends on Monday evening. He spoke, also, of 
walking to Groton with me, some time during the term, a 



84 



distance of thirty miles, and returning the next day. I 
answered that, as he excelled me in walking, he should give 
me the start of half a day, and on that condition I would go. 
He replied that, in such a case, I had better take the cars, and 
leave him to walk alone. He was a great walker, and I have 
known him to walk twenty-five miles in a day, on one or two 
Saturdays particularly. 

" After conversing for nearly an hour, I left him just in 
season to take the train of cars for Boston. 

" I do not think that at this time he meditated an act of 
self-destruction. I am fully of the impression that it was the 
result of a feeling which came over him suddenly, and one, too, 
which he could not resist. 

"As to the sulphuric ether (of which he had just purchased 
more than a pint), I have known of his having bought it on 
several occasions. He was fond of Chemistry, and was often 
buying substances for the purpose of experiments. 

"I had roomed with Robert so long that I had become 
very much attached to him. I had seen so many fine and 
noble qualities in him that I could not help it. His loss will 
be very deeply felt by the Class, more so, I think, than that of 
any other member. His friends are not confined to his own 
Class. He has many others who belong to all the Classes. 
" I remain yours very respectfully, 

"Samuel A. Green." 



85 

In another letter from Mr. Green (of April 25th), he 
remarks : 

" I saw more of Robert, perhaps, during the few days of the 
Term he was with us than usual. We were together more for 
the first week, I think, than we had ever been during the 
same length of time, on account of our greater leisure. During 
this time he frequently spoke of the plans which he intended to 
carry out after he should have left Cambridge. He told me 
he should live somewhere in the country in preference to the 
city, — to be where he could study Nature. 

" One remarkable feature in his character was his benevo- 
lence, which I had noticed in a very marked degree. There 
was a tendency of giving too much rather than too little. 
Quite frequently persons would call at the rooms in the College 
buildings for the object of begging. On several instances, in 
particular, I remember his generosity to these people, when I 
told him that he did not use proper precaution in regard to 
them. At which he replied, that he would rather err in giving 
too much than too little. 

" As far as I can learn, I was the last person who had any 
long conversation with him." 



86 



LETTER IN ANSWER TO MR. GREEN'S. 

"New-York, April 10, 1851. 

" My Dear Mr. Green : — I hasten, as soon as I am able, 
to acknowledge the receipt of your very kind and most wel- 
come letter. I had, indeed, been waiting with great anxiety 
to near from you, but had refrained from addressing you, as 
I well knew how painful it must have been to relate the cir- 
cumstances of your last interview with our dear Robert. 

" The occurrence of his death in almost your immediate pre- 
sence, with the sound of that last conversation, so expressive 
of hope and' youthful buoyancy, and plans for future useful- 
ness, still lingering upon his ear, and all the little but most sig- 
nificant details concerning your delightful harmony in ' doing 
as the other did,' your familiar and natural chat as you carried 
out in bed that sympathetic response to the wishes of each 
other, the blacking of boots, the nuts, the apples, the pros- 
pective entertainment, on the next following Monday evening, 
of your scientific friends of the Rumford Association, as pro- 
posed by dear Robert when time was just over with him, 
with a great amount of other corresponding facts from other 
sources, reaching, like those related in your letter, up to almost 
the moment of his death, are absolutely conclusive that there 
could have been no thought of his own destruction till at the 



81 

time of its execution, and that the natural exercise of reason 
must have been so suddenly and completely overthrown, that 
all past recollections, all the hilarity of that morning stream- 
ing from the fountain of friendship, all his life-long rever- 
ence for Religion, all his undeviating walk in morality and 
virtue, and the impulses of youth, could have had no place 
in his mind. So sudden, indeed, were the false perceptions 
which seized upon him, that there is not a clue in his writ- 
ings, his memoranda, his conversations, his deportment, or any 
one arrangement, at the nature of the illusion, or that his 
death had been meditated. This, however, is often the his- 
tory of insanity. The subject, nevertheless, frequently betrays, 
as a consequence, what are considered only peculiarities or ec- 
centricities ; when, at last, a violent seizure takes place with 
great abruptness, and whatever act is done follows at the mo- 
ment, or before the illusion is supplanted by right perceptions. 
But even then, reason may seem to be in such full operation 
that many can discern insanity only in the act itself; though 
closer observation shows that all the reasoning is upon false 
premises. 

" It is of little moment what were the chemical agents 
around him that administered to his death. Sulphuric ether 
appears to have been one, of which there was more than a pint ; 
and you 'have known of his buying it on several occasions, and 
that he was often buying substances for the purpose of experi- 
ments.' I am informed that there were as many as fifty bottles 



standing upon his table. There was nothing there with any 
evil design, but for the purposes of an inquisitive mind. The 
whole history of his life is one unbroken chain of testimony 
that he never entertained an evil thought. He was fond of 
Chemistry ; and its pursuit was an occasional recreation from 
severer studies. Like all novices, he was prone to look into 
what is most curious and wonderful in that Science. Hence he 
purchased and studied the vegetable alkaloids, respired the 
sulphuric ether and other gaseous substances, which older 
Chemists have always practised, and often at the no small 
exposure of life ; and, on two occasions he forwarded to me, 
from Cambridge, two specimens of explosive substances made 
by himself, — one of which was the gun-cotton, and the other a 
new gun-powder. I cautioned him against these dangerous 
things ; but he was always so habitually careful of his health 
and life, that I had never any fear that he would take a risk 
from experiments when enlightened of their dangerous ten- 
dency. 

" As to the direct facts which are indicative of his attach- 
ment to life, they become of great interest when contrasted 
with the manner of his death. Besides the great attention 
which he bestowed upon his diet, and his habitual walks, he 
had been provided for five years with a life-preserver, and he 
never travelled without that means of safety in a small carpet- 
bag. He brought this with him on his journey home last vaca- 
tion, and carried it with him on his late tour through Virginia. 



89 

Mrs. Clarke says, in a letter to Mrs. Paine, that, ' on the morning 
after his return to Cambridge, I met him a short distance from 
the house, in the Appian Way. He was just from the cars, 
with his carpet-bag, coming to the house, looking very bright 
and happy.' That was the little bag which was always devoted 
to his life-preserver ; and when, a few days after his death, my 
sister entered his chamber in Halworthy Hall, to look around 
upon the things which remained exactly as he left them, the 
little carpet-bag was there with its faithful inclosure, along with 
a night-shirt, indicative of the place which it occupied on the 
night of the 26th of February, when he made his last voyage 
around the coast in the Fall River steamer. It is also worthy 
of remark, as illustrating this moral problem, that, while 
passing the last summer vacation at Wells' Beach, in Maine, he 
occasionally amused himself with short fishing excursions, when 
he made his life-preserver his companion. Shooting, also, was 
one of his occasional amusements, and as I commonly joined 
him in this recreation, I had the opportunity of observing that 
he carried the same precautions into all the management of 
his gun. 

" Such are examples of his habitual care of his life ; and he 
often manifested an intense anxiety, sometimes very distressing, 
about the health and lives of his Parents. In the former case, 
although strongly marked, it seemed to proceed only from 
the natural sentiment under the steady discipline of reason ; and 
as to his Parents, there was often more or less ground for his fear. 

12 



90 



" But it is useless to dwell upon considerations of this 
nature with one who knew Robert so intimately as yourself; 
who knew so well his exemption from passion, his complete 
equanimity of mind, Iris possession of every thing that was 
amiable and excellent. And yet, so singularly mysterious is 
this Providence in the apparent absence of any exciting cause 
of a moral nature, I cannot but dwell on the contrast afforded 
by his whole life up to the moment of its extinction. I have 
no difficulty in discerning a physical cause in a preternatural 
susceptibility of his brain ; but I can find nothing of a moral 
nature to have acted injuriously upon the organ. It seems to 
have been, indeed, the physical cause alone ; and hence may be 
inferred bis very exuberance of spirits on the morning of the 
fatal day. His mind, as you know, was full of benevolence, 
and as gentle as the dew of heaven. I have never known it to 
have been ruffled by any passion, or by any disappointment. 

" How rare the occurrence of two Collegians spending their 
four years together in the relationship of Chums, and their 
endearments to each other increasing to the end of the term ! 
There is a coincidence, in this respect, in regard to myself, 
which renders the fact of thrilling interest ; for, during the four 
years of my College life I lived on the same harmonious terms 
as the Chum of the late Rev. Professor Brazer, and, during our 
Senior year we occupied a room not far from yours in Halwor- 
thy Hall. 

" For the present, my dear Mr. Green, I can only thank you 



91 

for the exercise of those virtues which were so characteristic of 
Robert, and by which you contributed so greatly to his happi- 
ness, and endeared yourself so strongly to him. It is my 
earnest wish to cultivate an intimate friendship with you here- 
after, and in this deep sentiment of affection Mrs. Paine entirely 
participates. Indeed, we could wish to be on terms of intimacy 
with all of Eobert's Classmates, and to do for them whatever, 
living, he would have done. 

" Mrs. Paine desires her affectionate regards to you, and 
unites with me in the hope that we shall hear again from you 
soon, and that we shall also receive from you an early visit. 

" Very affectionately yours, 

" Maettn Paine." 



EXTRACT OF A LETTER FROM JARED SPARES, LL. D., PRESIDENT OF 
THE UNTVERSITT, TO DR. PAINE. 

" Cambridge, March 19, 1851. 
" My Dear Sir : — I have delayed writing to you for a 
short time, till the acuteness of your feelings, so keenly touched 
by the recent most afflicting event, should be in some measure 
subdued ; and even now I should fail in any attempt to express 
my own deep sympathy with you in so great a bereavement. 
Yet it cannot but be a source of consolation to you to be 
assured of the high esteem in which your son was held here by 
all who knew him. 



92 

" By his uniformly correct deportment and amiable disposi- 
tion lie gained the confidence and respect of his Instructors, and 
the kind regards and good will of his Associates. As a scholar, 
he exhibited talents of high promise. His mind was constantly 
active, and steadily employed in studies congenial to his taste. 
Latterly his attention appears to have been much attracted to 
the sciences. 

" More than a year ago he called on me, and said he had 
been for some time endeavoring to solve the problem of the 
quadrature of the circle, and he believed with a fail* prospect of 
success ; but that he had recently seen a notice of a similar 
effort by a person in Canada, who, there was reason to suppose, 
might have adopted the same method. He requested me to 
receive from him a statement of what he had done and hoped 
to accomplish, so that the conception might be known to have 
originated with him, if he should be anticipated in its execution 
by another. He accordingly handed to me the inclosed paper, 
which I doubt not will give you pleasure to preserve as an 
interesting memorial." * 

" With great respect, I am, dear Sir, sincerely yours, 

" Jaeed Sparks." 



* Robert committed this to the care of the President at his Mother's particular 
request. She was then residing with him at Cambridge, and both were about leav- 
ing for the vacation. He was averse to doing it, lest it should appear ostentatious. 
The attempted solution of the problem was left unfinished, and he intended to have 
resumed it when more at leisure. 



93 

The next following letter refers to a subject in which the 
Parents had a deep interest. The application was founded 
upon the consideration that their Son had nearly completed his 
Collegiate course. 



LETTER FROM JARED SPARKS, LL. D., PRESIDENT OF THE UNIVERSITY. 

"Cambridge, June 5, 1851. 

" My Dear Sir : — Your letter of the 10th ultimo was 
duly received, and I have taken the earliest opportunity to lay 
it before the Corporation. They have given to your request all 
the consideration, which a subject so interesting to you justly 
demands. Your son's Classmates had also petitioned to have 
his name included in the Catalogue of Graduates, showing 
thereby a touching testimony of the estimation in which he 
was held by them. 

" I am sorry to be obliged to inform you, however, that the 
Corporation could not feel themselves justified in departing 
from the obvious construction of the College Laws, and from 
the usage which has always existed. Similar applications have 
heretofore been made, but there is no precedent for conferring 
a degree on a student who was not living at the time ; and, on 
reviewing the reasons for the course which has been pursued, 
as connected with the general interests of the University, the 
Board could not but consider them strong and just. 



94 

" Be assured, my dear Sir, that every member of the Board 
has sympathized with you most deeply in the afflicting event 
which gave rise to your application, and that your son has left 
a name which will ever be held in affectionate remembrance by 
all who knew him at the University. 

" With, &c. 

" Jaeed Seaeks." 



ANSWER TO THE FOREGOING LETTER. 

" New-York, June 10, 1851. 
" Deae Sie : — I had entertained some fear that the great 
desire of my heart could not be consistently granted. But your 
very kind letter subdued all feeling of disappointment, and left 
me with no other emotions than of gratitude to yourself and the 
gentlemen composing the Corporation, and the members of the 
Senior Class, for your and their sympathies, and of great thank- 
fulness that you could speak of my son in such consolatory terms. 
Mrs. Paine unites warmly with me in these sentiments, and in 
wishing a life of unalloyed happiness to yourself and Mrs. 
Sparks. 

" I remain, Dear Sir, very respectfully, 

" Your obliged friend, and obedient servant, 

" Maetyn Paine. 

"Jaeed Seaeks, LL. D., President, &c." 



95 



LETTER FROM A STUDENT OF DIVINITY, AND A FELLOW-BOARDER 
WITH ROBERT. 

" Cambridge, Mass., March 26, 1851. 

" My Dear Sir : — It gives me pleasure to lbe the medium of 
communicating to you the accompanying expression of the feel- 
ings of the Boarders at Mrs. Clarke's towards you and your son. 
My nearer acquaintance with him, and my deep interest in him, 
seem to me to render imperative a farther expression of my feel- 
ings, and one which I could not convey adequately in any gene- 
ral form, however true and sincere. 

" I need hardly say, with what sorrow the tidings of Rob- 
ert's death filled us all. It was deep and general. But to 
those who knew him best, and who watched his progress with 
most solicitude, there was one element of bitterness in the cup 
of sorrow which others tasted not. I felt as if I knew him 
better, and could better appreciate his feelings, than many, if 
not most of those immediately around him ; and the sudden ex- 
tinction of all those hopes which I had formed for him, and 
the thought of his Parents' sorrow, made the event doubly sad 
to me. I was watching with interest the growth and direction 
of his mind ; with how much and what kind of interest you 
may imagine, when I say that I observed in him an increasing 
disposition to view subjects in the light of Christian truth and 



06 

right, as contradistinguished from the low and selfish views so 
generally adopted. No one can tell how true and deep is the 
satisfaction derived from such a circumstance as this, but he 
who longs for it and so seldom finds it. It binds one to ano- 
ther by a bond of more than ordinary strength and perma- 
nence ; and, when the hand of death strikes down one who ex- 
cites such an interest, the blow is aggravated by the feeling 
that the world has lost one it could ill afford to spare. Such 
was my feeling towards Robert ; a feeling of growing respect 
and regard, as well as of joy in the prospect of a life guided, 
in whatever sphere it might be placed, by noble, Christian 
principles. I felt that the character of his mind was such as 
would compel him for ever to be dissatisfied with the mere 
form of truth, and content only with the substance ; and here 
I had entire sympathy with him. He saw how many minds 
rest satisfied with forms and semblances of things, without 
penetrating into the eternal realities which give expression to 
the outward forms ; and the sight was to him unsatisfactory, as 
to every thinking mind it must be. His aim appeared to be 
to get at the substance, — to lay hold on eternal truth ; and I 
felt a deep satisfaction in the thought that such a desire was 
his, — for I knew that the longer he lived the more would he 
realize it, and the better would he be fitted to become a com- 
fort to your hearts, and a blessing to those around him. 

" But the Infinite Father had other purposes with him, and 
He has removed him from among us. It seems a sorrow hard 



97 

to bear, and most deeply and truly do I sympathize with you. 
I have known what it is to be deprived of one who was dear to 
me as life, — my own blessed mother, who was to us all the 
centre around which our affections and our happiness seemed to 
grow, and whose removal from among us occasioned a void 
which nothing on this earth can ever fill ; and I can feel for 
you in this hour of your bitter grief. 

" But what a world of comfort is revealed unto us in Jesus 
Christ, "Who came to teach us that God is our Father, that His 
infinite Love is the Fountain whence all our blessings and our 
seeming evils flow ; that He loves us ever more than we can 
ask or even think ; that He is seeking to bless and do us good. 
When I think upon these blessed truths, I confess that, at 
times, I can feel the glory of suffering, and can think that it is 
good to have been afflicted. That this comfort in your sorrow 
may be yours, I earnestly hope and pray ; for then will your 
trial prove indeed a blessing. It is, I know, hard to feel that 
sudden calamities, which overtake us when we are unexpecting 
and unprepared for them, are intended as welcome messengers 
of mercy and love to us. When the heart is crushed beneath 
the weight of trouble, it feels only the presence of the pain, 
and not till calmer hours come, does it know that the healing 
balm is there. It sees only the cloud, forgetting that behind 
that cloud the light of Heaven is shining ; without which, 
indeed, the cloud could never have arisen. 

" But you have other comforts besides those which Religion 



98 

gives ; and, indeed, 1 may share them with you. The feeling 
which must fill the soul as it contemplates the end of one so 
pure, so good, so generous, so kind, so amiable as was Robert, 
how different from what it would have been had he been other- 
wise ! * A Christian life, all theologians agree, is a fitting pre- 
paration for a Christian death. That Robert's heart was right, 
we have all very good reason for believing. For myself, I can 
bear most hearty testimony to his worth ; and grieved though 



* As this Memoir is designed to be of a domestic nature, and for those only who 
will sympathize in its objects, the Parents cannot withhold the following illustration of 
the manner in which they should come to regard the death of their Son, as presented 
to them by their friend the late John R. Murray, Esq. ; and they record it the more 
willingly, as they have, in no small degree, realized a verification of the prophecy, 
and would hold it up as a consolation for others in their bereavements. " You have," 
said he, " the remarkable religious and virtuous habits of your Son for your steady 
contemplation and example. The realities of his existence upon Earth have now 
assumed the appearance of a shadow, flitting over the dales and the hills with which 
some of the finest incidents of his life are associated. You see that shadow, too, only 
in the distance, and, although in chase of it, it may seem to recede farther and farther 
from your view, till at last, it may turn some corner of a mountain and disappear ! 
But, with the eye of faith you will still discern it through the mountain itself. This 
will serve to hasten your efforts, and you will soon find yourselves approaching more 
rapidly the place of immersion, and will be surprised, on turning that corner, to find 
how greatly you have overcome the distance between yourselves and the shadow. 
This will give another stimulus to your pursuit, and I need not say that you will 
speedily overtake it." 

Tliis incident reminds the Biographers of another tribute bestowed upon their 
Son by the Sister of their lamented friend, who paid the high respect to his piety of 
presenting him with a Diploma constituting him a life member of the " American 
Bible Society," in his Sophomore year. 



99 

I feel at his sudden departure, it is to me a great and abiding 
satisfaction to think that he was one to whom death should 
have no terrors. To you it must he a source of comfort and 
gratitude ; for the memory of your son's virtues you can cherish 
as an object of pleasing contemplation to the latest period of 
life. And, though earthly hopes are blasted and destroyed, yet 
is there a better and holier hope, which, in God's good provi- 
dence, may one day be realized. 

" The last conversation that I recollect holding with Robert, 
was concerning his journey in Virginia. He spoke with great 
pleasure of that tour, which he had evidently highly enjoyed. 
He had taken particular notice of every thing concerning 
slavery, and spoke of it as a great evil to that State; as, in 
fact, ruinous to every thing with which it had any connection. 
He was very much pleased with the objects of curiosity in 
natural scenery ; but his chief thought seemed to be in regard 
to points which are now so generally discussed, and he made 
his journey serve to throw a great deal of light upon them. Of 
slavery he spoke with more aversion than he ever did before. 
His conversations with individuals whom he met or travelled 
with there seemed to have interested him very much, as show- 
ing how bad the system is. I can see him now as his face 
lighted up with pleasure, when he told me of the amusing, or 
the new and beautiful things that he had seen. He seemed 
well and very happy. 

" The last time that I saw him alive was at breakfast on 



LcFC. 



100 

Saturday morning (the day of liis death). Nothing then indi- 
cated that he was otherwise than well and happy. These are 
the last things that I can call to mind concerning him and his 
conversation. As they may afford you some satisfaction, I have 
stated them. I must not forget to say, also, that I was so much 
interested in his account of his Southern travels, that I asked 
him to draw up in writing a brief record of them ; more par- 
ticularly in regard to slavery. This he promised to do some 
time when he had leisure. 

" What our relations to each other were, you know as well 
as I can tell you. Always frank and open, our intercourse was 
to me becoming more pleasant and profitable constantly ; and I 
was not without hope that it might be so mutually. For his 
character and life I feel grateful ; and though I cannot but 
regret so early a termination of his career, yet I can rejoice 
that there was so much in it to be glad and grateful for, — so 
much that we all can look back upon with satisfaction and 
pleasure, — so much that will ever render his memory sacred. 

" I have spoken of Robert as I feel. I have endeavored to 
avoid exaggeration, and have rather studied the reverse. My 
object has not been to eulogize him, but, by expressing my 
regard for him, to give to you that comfort and consolation 
which the thought of his worth is so well fitted to give. Our 
loss is his gain. That to you, also, it may be no loss, but great 
gain, I earnestly pray. And, if this poor letter shall do aught 
towards lightening your load of grief, I shall be abundantly 



101 

grateful. It is very pleasant to me to be able to speak such, 
words of comfort as I can offer in regard to Robert ; and, 
although they very inadequately express the feelings which 
dictate them, yet accept them as an earnest of the existence of 
those feelings. 

" Please give my very kind regards to Mrs. Paine ; and with 
one more expression of my sincere sympathy with you, and 
affectionate respect and regard for Robert's memory, I am, 
" My dear Sir, 

" Truly your friend, 

" F. Frothingham." 



The letter which follows describes the manner of the Youth 
as he appeared at a Club of familiar Classmates two evenings 
before his death : the S. G. I. Club. 



EXTEACT OF A LETTER FROM MR. WILLIAM W. GOODWIN, A CLASSMATE 

OF ROBERT. 

" Cambridge, September 15, 1851. 
" Prof. Paine : 

" Dear Sir : — I will endeavor to comply with your request, 
that I should give you a circumstantial account of Robert's 
appearance and conversation on the Thursday evening before 



102 



his death, as nearly as I can recollect ; but as I had no particu- 
lar reason at the time for noticing his conduct especially, I can 
of course only recall such scattered portions as were most forci- 
bly suggested to my mind by the sad event which so closely 
followed that evening. 

" On the Thursday evening before his death, Robert attend- 
ed a meeting of the S. G. I. Club, and throughout the evening 
he manifested his usial cheerfulness, and gave no one the 
slightest reason to suppose that he was not in the full enjoy- 
ment of his senses, in every respect. His conversation was the 
same, and his behavior the same, as they always had been when 
he met with us, and nothing was said or done by him which we 
should have remembered as at all unusual, if his death had not 
so soon followed. But that event recalled to our minds some 
little incidents, which show almost conclusively, that, on that 
evening he had no intention or even thought of destroying 
his life, and that he was, as you say, ' looking forward to the 
future with unabated hope and happiness.' During the evening 
he proposed to one of our number to take a walk with him 
every morning before prayers, for the remainder of the term. 
After some discussion the proposition was accepted, and they 
agreed to call for one another on alternate mornings. I think 
one of these walks was actually taken on Friday morning. At 
a later period in the evening, Robert proposed that a ' Cipher ' 
should be agreed upon between us, by which we could corres- 
pond after leaving College, and he moved that a Committee be 






103 

appointed to prepare one.* The proposition being considered 
rather chimerical, no serious action was taken upon it ; but 
Robert was appointed a Committee of One to report some such 
plan for consideration at the next meeting. When called upon 
for a literary production, he apologized for not having one 
ready that evening, and said he had one in preparation for the 
next meeting, which would have taken place a fortnight from 
the one of which I am speaking. This unfinished production 
has never been found, and it would give us all great pleasure to 
see it, if it should at any future time be discovered. These are 
all the incidents I can remember of what took place on that 
evening." 

" If I can be of the least assistance to you in this or in any 
other way, or if I have omitted any thing you desire to know, 
and which it is in my power to tell you, I hope you will inform 
me, and I will do my best to assist you." 

" Yours, with great resj)ect, 

" "William W. Goodwin." 



The following is an extract from the Letter already referred 
to (page 28), and was taken by Robert from the Post-office on 
the morning of the day of his death. 



* This was probably suggested by the circumstance that the Association was a 
private one. 



104 



" Washington, D. C, March 5, 1851. 
" Dear Paine : — I have just received your letter. You 
are the most punctual Correspondent I have ever known. Be 
assured that nothing would afford me greater pleasure than to 
he aide to oblige you. Your article about Mount Vernon I 
shall give to the Editor." 

" Pray excuse me, as I am in great haste. 

" Truly, ever yours, 

"J. E. Felton." 
" Robert Troup Paine." 



EXTRACT OF A LETTER FROM MRS. DUNN TO HER BROTHER, DR. PAINE. 



" Boston, Mass., March 18, 1851. 

" My Dear Brother : — It is very sad to write you this 
letter, for I know how very painful it wdl be to hear all the 
little particulars I am about to tell you ; and yet I think you 
will find great consolation in the fact, that there was no cause 
whatever for this mysterious act. Mr. Dunn went to Cam- 
bridge with me yesterday afternoon. "We first called on the 
President, who received us with great courtesy, and assured us, 
as he has done every one, I believe, of the great estimation in 
which Robert was held by the Faculty." 

" We then went to the room where this sad event took 






105 

place. I assure you it required no small effort to look about 
me. Green has not returned, and the room opposite has not 
since been occupied. We examined Robert's secretary and 
other places, but found nothing explanatory. One hundred 
dollars were in the secret drawer, and his diamond breast-pin." 
" We must view this calamity with the eye of Faith. A 
few short years, and we shall, I trust, meet him again, where 
there will be no more sorrow " 

" Your, <fcc., 

" Sophia Dunn." 



RESOLUTIONS BY THE SENIOR CLASS, WHICH, WITH THE REPLY, WERE 
PRINTED BY THE CLASS AS A MEMORIAL FOR THEMSELVES. 



" Cambridge, March 18, 1851. 

"Dear Sir: — At a meeting of the Senior Class of Harvard 
College, called upon the occasion of the death of your son, our 
classmate, the following resolutions were unanimously adopted, 
which we send with no vain hope of alleviating your sorrow, 
but as a simple testimonial of our feelings. 

" JResolved, — That the mournful death of our dear friend 
and classmate, Robert Troup Paine, occurring as it has so near 
our final separation, has cast a gloom, which we cannot hope 
will be dispelled, over the whole remainder of our College 



106 

course. In him we have to mourn the loss of a, kind and affec- 
tionate friend, of an agreeable and cheerful companion, and of 
an intellect active and cultivated. He was equally endeared to 
us by the qualities of his mind and of his heart, and had his 
life been spared, we feel assured that he would have proved an 
honor to the class. While he won the affection and esteem of 
his classmates, he did not fail of securing the confidence and 
respect of his instructors ; and in the minds of both he has left 
a remembrance never to be effaced. 

" Mesolved, — That we sympathize most deeply with the 
sufferings of his afflicted parents. If the loss of such a friend 
is so hard for us to bear, what must be the sorrow of those 
who have been called to part with a dear and only son. 

" He-solved, — That an authentic copy of these resolutions be 
transmitted to the parents of our late classmate. 



" Henry W. Haynes, ) ni 
Edward H. Hall, \ 
William C. Bradley, J 



Committee. 



" Prof. Martyn Palne." 



" New-York, March 2-4, 1851. 
"My Kind Friends, Memhers of the Senior Class of Harvard 

University : — 

" Mrs. Paine and myself have received your resolutions of 
affectionate regard for the memory of our dear Child, and of 



101 

sympathy for us, with very deep emotions of gratitude. Next 
to our consciousness of Robert's entire purity of life and 
character, and an unhesitating belief that so much innocence 
is well accepted of Heaven, the expression of your own inti- 
mate knowledge of his worth softens a sorrow which would 
otherwise paralyze our minds, and abbreviate the little which 
remains of our earthly being. Under such influences, however, 
and others of a similar nature from your inestimable and 
benevolent President, and yet other kind friends, whose confi- 
dence and regard had been won by Robert to the end of his 
brief career, we feel ourselves sustained, and enabled to bow in 
submission to the Almighty Will. We feel that ours is alone 
the loss ; and while we cannot but indulge the principle of 
humanity, which was alike impressed upon the Saviour of man, 
we do not permit our grief to be unmindful of the sadness 
which has come over your souls. We feel for you as well as 
the loss sustained by ourselves. We hope, too, that the event 
may be sanctified to you as well as to us, and that it may 
impress all of us deeply with the uncertainty of human affairs. 
Not that it should cast a gloom over the blessings and enjoy- 
ments of life, but that it may so lead us to cultivate the religion 
and the virtues which governed my Son from his early child- 
hood, that we may rather pursue what is intellectual than what 
is sensual. Disciplined by the culture of sound principles in 
religion and morals, you will find life to be full of the richest 
pleasures, and will come to regard its severest trials as ultimate 



108 

sources of refined happiness. It is the vicious alone, or those 
who seek enjoyments under wrong propensities, or the morbid 
misanthrope, that turn upon the world as an inheritance of 
troubles and sorrows without a corresponding relief. 

" Robert was the victim of an inexorable necessity, which 
could not be averted while he was under the ordinary laws of 
his physical being. There was a radical fault entailed upon his 
brain, in a morbid susceptibility of that organ, superinduced by 
disease which attended him uninterruptedly during the first 
seven years of his life, and during which we were hourly appre- 
hensive of his death. The brain was the main source of the 
difficulty, shedding a pernicious influence over the great organs 
of digestion. But, in the midst of these physical evils, his 
mind was remarkably precocious, for ever active, and evincing 
some very unusual and even surprising manifestations. In vain 
did I strive to hold it in check ; and, to keep him from books, 
I withheld from him a knowledge of the alphabet till he was 
about six years old. At the age of nine years, he was attacked 
with a very formidable inflammation of the brain, and in conse- 
quence of the habitually susceptible condition of that organ, he 
could never bear the stimulus of meat. He tried it now and 
then, though very rarely, when it always gave him a severe 
headache. He was also a sleep-wcillcer from the time he could 
go alone up to the end of his first year in College, which is as 
far as I have traced it. This was last manifested to us when at 
a retired place in the country, during the vacation preceding 



109 

his Sophomore year. It then occurred two or three times, and 
on one of the occasions he rose in the night, and wandered 
abroad in a storm of great violence. The house was alarmed 
by the noise of his movements, and pursuit was made. 

" There was something peculiarly remarkable in his religious 
habits from the age of two years and a half, which raised in his 
Parents a constant apprehension that he would fall either into 
a religious melancholy or monomania; though he always enjoy- 
ed every thing around him, so far as infirmity of health would 
admit. From that early age to the time he left us for College, 
at eighteen years, I have never known a person who manifested 
such an undeviating and so devout a reverence for the Sabbath, 
as well as for all other holy things. In infancy his toys were 
voluntarily laid aside on Saturday evening, and the Sabbath 
was passed in repeating the prayers and chapters in the Bible, 
which had been taught him by his Mother when but two years 
old. His memory was one of his remarkable attributes, espe- 
cially so in early life ; and whatever was once or twice read to 
him from the Bible, he would habitually repeat, as well as his 
prayers, without farther prompting. His entire childhood was 
distinguished by the same display of reverential feeling towards 
the Deity. After his health would admit, he was never from 
Church, up to the time of going to College, unless rarely pre- 
vented by some temporary illness ; and the residue of the day 
was devoted to writing out a summary of what he had heard, 
or to serious reading. The Bible was the first book he read 



110 

through, and at the age of thirteen years he had read it twice ; 
when he appeared to have absorbed the whole in his memory. 
But, it should be said, that when this seemingly constitutional 
trait was discovered, nothing was done by his Parents to encou- 
rage it, but simply to indulge it. You may remember how he 
kneeled at prayers in the University Chapel, when first con- 
nected with the College. It was with some difficulty that 
President Everett and myself could dissuade him from it, so 
imperative was his conscience on the subject. At the close of 
his Sophomore year, when he was to adopt an elective study, 
his mind was so wedded to the profession of Divinity, that it 
was with great difficulty that the President and myself could 
discourage him from studying Hebrew. I was alarmed lest it 
should abstract his attention from his Collegiate course, and 
reduce him to an exclusiveness, if nothing more, which I had so 
long apprehended. Nothing but reasoning and persuasion were 
employed, and the President agreed with me entirely, that 
mildness and tenderness were alone admissible in the case. He 
was also assured that he should choose his profession with 
entire independence, and if Divinity became his choice, that it 
would be as much my desire as his own that he should be 
thoroughly conversant with the original language of the Old 
Testament. 

" On the part of his Parents, there was nothing but one 
uninterrupted indulgence, because his stern integrity, and vir- 
tues, and manly desires, never permitted him to take the slight- 



Ill 

est advantage. When I was absent in Europe, for several 
months before his entrance at College, I gave him my bank- 
account in charge, with authority to draw for money at his 
pleasure. His happiness and usefulness were the unceasing 
objects of our care, and we lived almost for him alone. Even 
my own ambition for character was stimulated by a desire to 
yield my son an example, and to leave for him a reputation that 
might be useful to himself. All this was well appreciated by 
Robert, and, to the last, no son was ever more dutiful or more 
devotedly fond of his parents. 

" But, in the midst of the brightest prospects, just on the 
eve of completing his Collegiate term, with plans already 
arranged to accomplish him abroad as well as at home, sur- 
rounded by Classmates to whom he was warmly attached, with 
a President at hand whom he loved and venerated, and other 
friends at Cambridge to awaken the strongest attachments to 
life, and full of the instinctive principle of self-preservation, he 
fell without an apparent cause to ruffle the smooth current of 
his life, which seems to have passed into Eternity under some 
hallucination arising from the morbid condition of his brain, 
too sudden and too powerful to be restrained by as great an 
accumulation of blessings as was ever enjoyed upon earth. We 
may abide in the certainty that reason was utterly overthrown ; 
but must turn to an inscrutable Providence for permitting an 
act, against which, in the ordinary exercise of the mind, He has 
adjudged the highest penalty. For my own part, I look upon 



112 

it as upon any unavoidable accident, and as a dispensation 
resulting from natural laws. When reason is subverted, what 
remains of the wreck is prone to inflict upon the body the ruins 
which it suffers itself, or to bring upon others the direst calami- 
ties. This is equally common to the wise and the foolish, to 
the good and the bad. Its final causes must be therefore 
intended in Wisdom for some salutary effect upon the living ; 
and when you shall have reflected upon this subject, you will 
be able to trace out the secret influences of such events upon 
society, and how they may seem to be ordained for the com- 
mon good. 

" Perhaps I owe you an apology for the length of my letter ; 
but I have measured your interests and sensibilities, in some 
degree, by my own. Nor will I yet close without again assur- 
ing you of the thankfulness entertained by myself and Mrs. 
Paine for all your kind feeling toward our Son, and our grati- 
tude for your sympathy with us. What I have said to you is 
intended through you for the whole class, for whose happiness 
and prosperity I shall ever cherish a lively interest. 

" Whenever any of you may visit New- York, I need not say 
how happy we shall be to see you, and to listen to your College 
reminiscences. 

" Sincerely yours, 

" Martyn Paine. 

" Messrs. Henry W. Haynes, ) rn 

Edward H. Hall, and \ n ^ "*** „ 
William C. Bradley, f Comm ^- 



113 



LETTER AND RESOLUTIONS FROM THE RUMFORD SOCIETY, OF HARVARD 

UNIVERSITY. 

" Cambridge, March 29, 1851. 

" Dear Sir : — Having been appointed by the Rumford 
Society to prepare Resolutions expressive of the feelings of its 
Members upon the death of your Son, we have endeavored to 
perform that duty, and we transmit to you a copy of the Reso- 
lutions adopted by the Society upon that occasion. 

" The Runrford Society was formed for the promotion of 
chemical studies among the Undergraduates, and for nearly 
three years Robert had been an active and most valued mem- 
ber. Feeling an unusual interest in the study which brought 
us together, he seemed almost indispensable to our Society, and 
he had twice been elected to the office of President, which he 
held at the time of his death. The many services which he has 
rendered to us as our President, and as a member, will never 
be forgotten, and we feel that we have, indeed, met with a loss 
which can never be made up to us. 

" We know full well how inadequate any mere words of 
ours will be to address you upon this most afflicting occurrence, 
or to presume to intrude upon grief such as yours must be ; but 
we should fail to do justice to our own feelings, if we omitted 



114 

to ask permission to join our expression of sympathy with the 
many others that this sad event has called forth. 

" Please accept, Sir, for yourself and Mrs. Paine, the accom- 
panying Resolutions, as a slight token of the heartfelt sympathy 
of the Runiford Society, and of ourselves, both as its members 
and as Classmates of your Son. 

" We remain, yours respectfully, 

" William W. Goodwin, 

Henry W. Haynes. 
" Prof. M. Paine." 



THE RESOLUTIONS. 

"Resolved, — That by the recent death of Robert Troup 
Paine, of the Senior Class, the Rumford Society has been 
deprived of an able and efficient President, an active member, 
and a most esteemed friend ; and, while we can never forget 
the many valuable services rendered by him to the Society, we 
shall never cease to remember him with feelings of the strongest 
affection, and of the highest regard. 

" Resolved, — - That we deeply sympathize with the Parents 
of our deceased friend in their bereavement, and we would 
hope to offer them some slight consolation in the assurance that 
their Son secured the affection and respect of all who were asso- 
ciated with him in our Society. 



115 

" Resolved, — That a Copy of these Resolutions he trans- 
mitted to the Parents of our late President, in hehalf of the 
Society." 



LETTER FROM THE MEMBERS OF THE S. G. I. CLUB OF HARVARD 
UNIVERSITY. 



" Cambridge, March 17, 1851. 
" Dear Sir : — Although as Members of the Senior Class 
we have most heartily joined in the Resolutions which have 
been sent to you, on the death of your Son, our Classmate, yet 
we were bound to him by a dearer and a closer tie, which 
prompts us in justice to our own feelings to address you in a 
different character. He was one of the pleasantest and most 
cherished members of a little Club of eight, comprising only 
the most intimate and familiar friends. Our objects were both 
literary and social, and for each he was particularly qualified. 
His literary contributions bore the characteristic marks of his 
genius ; and his smiling face and sparkling wit were the delight 
and ornament of the social board. In such a close connection, 
we could not fail of becoming intimately acquainted with the 
character of every member; and we are most happy to say, 
with perfect frankness, that there was no one more beloved and 
respected than brother Paine. His place can never be supplied, 
and never again can we meet, as we have before. We feel 



Seal of the Club. 

rAMICIT^E VIT-En 
L YINUM. J 



116 

almost a claim to mingle our tears and sympathy with yours, 
for he was very clear to us all. 

" Will you, clear Sir, and Mrs. Paine, accept this last token 
of affection from his most intimate friends ; and whenever you 
look upon this badge (a silver key and chain), do not forget 
that your Son possessed the warmest love and esteem of the 
S. G. I. Club. 

" Heney W. Haynes, Pres. 

Edwabd F. Raymond, V. Pres. 

Chables Dextee, Sedy. 

Wm. W. Goodwin, 

C. C. Mitchell, 

Aethue H. Pooe, 

J. Waeeen Towle. 
" Prof. M. Paine." 



Robert was also a member of the ancient literary Club, the 
Hasty-Pudding. 



LETTER FROM ROBERT S FELLOW -BOARDERS. 

" Cambridge, March 25, 1851. 
" Dear Sie : ■ — -It is with deep sorrow that we, lately Fel- 
low-Boarders with your Son, address you at this time ; but we 
should do injustice to our feelings were we to refrain from offer- 



117 

ing to you our sympathy in your affliction, and to your Son's 
memory that tribute of respect and esteem which in our hearts 
we pay. 

" We mourn his loss. "We deeply regret, that, at so early 
an age he should be cut off, when the future seemed so full of 
fair promise, and the hopes which clustered around him, and 
the anxieties which had ever been felt for him, seemed destined, 
the one to be fulfilled, and the other to be dispelled. But, 
since it has pleased God to determine otherwise, we would 
offer to you that alleviation which a deep sympathy with you 
in your severe trial may afford, and trust that the Hand of Infi- 
nite Love may be outstretched to strengthen and comfort you. 

" While we contemplate with sorrow the early death of 
your Son, we feel that there is ground for solace in the remem- 
brance of his character. We knew him upright, kind in his 
feelings, and amiable and agreeable in his deportment ; and it 
gives us pleasure to add our testimony to his worth. 

"Accept this slight expression of our sympathy for Mrs. 
Paine and yourself from, dear Sir, 

" Your obcl't Servants, 
" F. Feothtjstgeam, Ueiel H. Ceockee, 

J. R. Pieece, B. C. Claek, J ; e, 

John Eevtng, J'e, G. E. Dana, 

F. H. Russell, David H. Coolldge. 

" Peof. Paine." 



118 

Among the many agreeable things which were about to 
take place, and of which Robert had spoken with much plea- 
sure to one or both of his Parents, was the fraternal ceremony 
of Glass Day, which was celebrated on the 20th of June. 

To render the following communication intelligible to all 
who may receive this Volume, an Extract is prefixed from a 
work lately published at Cambridge, entitled " A Collection 
of College Words and Customs." 



" The Custom at Harvard College of observing 'with appropriate exercises the day 
on which the Senior Class finish their studies, is of very early date." 

" The biographer of Mr. Robert Treat Paine, referring to ' a Valedictory Poem 
delivered by Paine, June 21st, 1792,' says, 'The 21st of every June, till of late years, 
has been the day on 'which the members of the Senior Class closed their collegiate 
studies, and retired to make preparations for the ensuing Commencement. On this 
day, it was usual for one member to deliver an oration, and another a poem ; such 
members being appointed by their Classmates.' There was a procession, attended by 
the President, Professors, and Tutors, prayers, music, &c. 

" Alterations were continually made in the observance of Class Day, and in twenty 
years after the period last mentioned, its character had in many respects changed." 

" The observances of the Day, which, in a small way, may be considered as a 
rival Commencement, are at present as follows. The Orator, Poet, Odist, Chaplain, 
and Marshals, having been previously chosen, on the morning of Class Day the Sen- 
iors assemble in the yard, and, preceded by the band, walk in procession to one of the 
halls of the College, where a prayer is offered by the Class Chaplain. They then 
proceed to the President's house, and escort him to the Chapel, where the following 
order is observed. (This will appear from the subjoined Order of Exercises for the 
present year.) The Class then withdraw to Harvard Hall, accompanied by their 
friends and invited guests, where a rich collation is provided. 

'• After an interval of from one to two hours, the dancing commences in the yard. 
Cotillions and the easier dances are here perforaied, but the sport closes in the hall 



119 



with the Polka and other fashionable steps. The Seniors again form, and make the 
circuit of the yard, cheering the buildings. They then assemble under the Liberty 
Tree, around which, with hands joined, they dance, after singing the students' adopted 
song, ' Auld Lang Syne.' At parting, each member takes a sprig or a flower from the 
beautiful ' Wreath ' which surrounds the ' Farewell Tree,' which is sacredly treasured 
as a last memento of college scenes and enjoyments. Thus close the exercises of the 
day, after which the Class separate until Commencement." 



LETTER FROM THE AUTHOR OF THE FOLLOWING ODE, RELATIVE TO 
CLASS DAY. 

" Newburyport, June 21, 1851. 
" Prof. Paine : 

" Dear Sir : — In accordance with my own desire as well 
as the expressed wish of the beloved and honored President of 
our University, I transmit to yon a copy of the Order of Exer- 
cises on Class Day (yesterday). 

" It was my privilege to enjoy an intimate intercourse with 
your lamented Son. I hope the allusion to our mutual bereave- 
ment may be no less acceptable to your feelings than it is sin- 
cerely expressive of my own. 

" Very truly your friend, 

"Joshua D. Robinson." 



120 



"ORDER OF EXERCISES. 



I. MUSIC— By the Band. 

II. PKAYEB.— By the Rev. James Walker, D. D. 
III. ORATION. — By George Bradford, Dcxbury. 
IY. MUSIC— By the Band. 

V. POEM. — By William Czar Bradley, Brattleboro', Vt. 

YI. ODE, 
By Joshua Danforth Robinson, Newburyport. 

Tcne — "Fair Harvard." 

The days of thy tenderly nurture are done, 

We call for the lance and the shield ; 
There 's a battle to fight and a crown to be won, 

And onward Ave press to the field ! 
But yet, Alma Mater, before we depart, 

Shall the song of our farewell be sung, 
And the grasp of the hand shall express for the heart 

Emotions too deep for the tongue. 

This group of thy sons, Alma Mater, no more 
May gladden thine ear with their song, 

For soon shall we stand upon Time's crowded shore, 
And mix in humanity's throng. 



121 

'| 
O, glad be the voices that ring through thy halls 

When the echo of ours shall have flown, 

And the footsteps that sound when no longer thy walls 

Shall answer the tread of our own. 

Alas ! our dear Mother, we see on thy face 

A shadow of sorrow to-day ; i 

For while we are clasped in thy farewell embrace, 

And pass from thy bosom away, 
To part with the living, we know, must recall 

The lost whom thy love still embalms, 
That one sigh must escape and one tear-drop must fall 

For the children* that died in thy arms. 

But the flowers of affection, bedewed by the tears 

In the twilight of Memory distilled, 
And sunned by the love of our earlier years, 

When the soul with their beauty was thrilled, 
Untouched by the frost of life's winter, shall blow, 

And breathe the same odor they gave 
When the vision of youth was entranced by their glow, 

Till, fadeless, they bloom o'er the grave." 



* Referring, also, to John Notes Mead, of Brattleboro', Vt., a youth of veiy 
distinguished promise. 






122 



EXTRACT OF A LETTER FROM MR. PIERCE, ONE OF ROBERT S 
FELLOW-BOARDERS. 



"Cambridge, June 11, 1851. 

" My Dear Mrs. Paine :" — "I had become very much, at- 
tached to Robert, more so than to any other of my Classmates, 
and it is a source of pleasure and delight to me to recall the 
many pleasant hours I enjoyed in his company, and add my 
testimony to that of all who knew him, of his goodness and vir- 
tue. No one knew him but to love him. To all he was kind, 
open-hearted, and cordial. He was, I think, the most wonder- 
ful instance of kind-heartedness and good temper I have ever 
had the good fortune to meet with. 

" During an acquaintance of three years, when I saw him 
several times daily, I never saw him excited into any thing like 
a passion, or knew him to have uttered a harsh or unkind word. 
He never noticed or remembered an injury, and was always 
desirous to impute to others the best of motives, and excuse, if 
possible, their faults. He was beloved by all, Teachers as well 
as Classmates. 

" In a conversation with Mr. Bowen (the Professor of His- 
tory, and Editor of the North American Review), some time 
since, an allusion was made to him, and he spoke of his talents, 



123 

abilities, and character, in the highest terms. The Batchelders 
also spoke of him with great affection. He visited them, as 
you know, very often, and took great pleasure in wandering 
about the garden, and examining the flowers in their Conser- 
vatory. 

" I consider it an honor as well as a pleasure to reckon him 
among my dearest friends. By his death, a void has been 
created which can only be filled, in any degree, by the remem- 
brance of his many beautiful traits of character and amiable 
disposition. A gloom has been cast over the Class which is but 
increased as the time of our separation draws near. In all our 
preparations for the closing festivities, for which I must say I 
have little zeal or inclination, the thought continually occurs to 
me, how Robert would enjoy it all were he here. He seemed 
devoted to College, and fond of all his Classmates, and was 
prized and beloved by all of them. t 

" It was but a few days after the commencement of the 
Term (two or three days before his death), that we were talk- 
ing of a promise which we made to each other last Term, while 
you were in Cambridge, and I believe in your hearing, namely, 
— that he should come and see me when he was fifty years old, 
and I, in turn, visit him when I should reach that age. He 
spoke about it and I had forgotten it ; and he made a sugges- 
tion that we should have a written contract, to which I assent- 
ed. "We were at Mrs. Clarke's table at the time ; but the con- 
tract was not committed to writing. God grant the meeting 



124 

may take place in a better World, where he has gone be- 
fore us. 

" Your friend, and the Classmate and 

" Friend of Robert, 

"J. R, Pierce." 



EXTRACT OF A LETTER FROM MR. F. C. BROWNE. 

" Cambridge, May 11, 1851. 
" Dr. M. Paine : 

" Dear Sir : — As one who was very intimate with and 
enjoyed the friendship of your Son, I feel compelled to write 
you a few words in regard to him. 

" Robert was the first friend I made in Cambridge. On the 
first day of our examination for admission, four years ago, I 
found myself beside him at the dinner-table, and we entered 
into conversation. I accompanied him to his room, was intro- 
duced to his Chum, and we soon became intimate. The acquain- 
tance thus early formed I have never had reason to regret. 
Throughout our Course I have ever valued the friendship of 
Robert highly, and have enjoyed the Society of but very few 
as I enjoyed his." 

" I, too, had been obliged to go to the South for my health, 
and it was at ' Key West,' in Florida, that the sad tidings of 
his death reached me. The shock was severe to me. There 



125 

are but very few persons whose death would have affected me 
so much ; for I, in common with many others of his Classmates, 
had a sort of brotherly regard for Robert. Moreover, he was 
the last Classmate with whom I spoke, before leaving for the 
South (he having called upon me as I spent a few hours in 
New- York, on my way), and up to the time of his death he 
was the only one of my Cambridge Friends who had written to 
me since my arrival in Florida. His letter was written from 
Virginia, and contained a short account of his visit to the 
' Natural Bridge,' &c. It was evidently written in good spirits, 
and I thought that he must be enjoying his trip greatly, and 
promised myself a history thereof when we should again meet 
at Cambridge. 

" I am here again with my Class ; but one is gone. — We 
miss Robert everywhere. We miss him at the Societies; but 
most of all we miss his cheerful face from the social circle at 
the evening fireside, for this was considered incomplete unless 
the presence of Robert was insured." " I shall ever cherish the 
memory of the Classmate and the Friend, the dear Friend, who 
has passed from among us." 

" K you desire it, I will forward you a copy of the Letter 
which he sent me from Virginia ; probably one of the last he 
ever wrote. 

" With assurance of the most heartfelt sympathy, I remain, 
dear Sir, truly yours, 

" Francis C. Browne." 



126 

Subsequently, Mr. Browne had the kindness to forward a 
copy of Robert's Letter from the "Natural Bridge," which is 
inserted here as a cumulative illustration of his character, and 
especially of the happy condition of his rnind. 



EXTRACT FROM MR. BROWSES LETTER. 



" Cambridge, June 7, 1851. 
" Dr. Paine : 

" Dear Sir : — I hasten to comply with your request in 
reference to that last letter I received from Robert. It was 
short, and taken up principally with an account of the objects 
of interest which he found around him in Virginia. He was 
evidently enjoying himself in the highest degree, and his mind 
seemed completely occupied with the magnificent scenery before 
him, and directed his pen to them to the exclusion of all other 
subjects. 

" A Memoir of Robert would be highly valued and appre- 
ciated by his Classmates and Friends." 

" I remain very sincerely yours, 

" F. C. Browne." 



127 



Robert's letter to mr. browne, then at ' key west,' Florida. 

" Natural Bridge, Va., Feb. 13, 1851. 

" Dear Frank : — I have reached, at last, one of the great 
wonders of the world. It is one of the grandest things I can 
imagine. 

" You approach the Bridge from the top of a hill, and, in 
descending, you cross it, but would have no idea that it is a 
Bridge. On one side, to be sure, you look off into a wild and 
almost unfathomable abyss ; but, on the other you have rocks 
and trees, so that the appearance is more that of the side of a 
mountain. — But, go down below, and you have a stupendous 
sight ; — the chasm extending on both sides until it loses itself 
among the hills, — overhead, the rocky arch, ninety feet long 
and eighty feet wide, spanning the fearful gap at a distance of 
215 feet above the Creek which rolls at your feet ; while, on 
each side of the creek are perpendicular palisades of naked 
rock. 

" The best view from the Ravine is about ten or fifteen rods 
down the Creek ; but the best view of all is from half a mile 
distant, when, coming to a rise in the road, this great Master- 
piece of Nature bursts upon your view, displaying, far better 



128 

than from any other position, the beauty and symmetry of its 
arch. Here you stop to gaze in wonder and admiration. 

" I left New- York about a week after you, and arrived 
here day before yesterday. To-day I leave for Washington. I 
should like to spend weeks here, as the country is exceedingly 
romantic and interesting ; altogether superior to any I have 
seen elsewhere in Virginia. 

" On my way, I visited ' Weyer's Cave,' where I staid two 
days, and explored it thoroughly ; and, on my way to the 
' Bridge,' I also visited the ' Warm Springs,' ' Hot Springs,' and 
' White Sulphur Springs.' I omit a description of those places, 
as I fear I am writing for the '■Dead Letter Office? 

" We passed through some large tracts called the ' Big Cow 
Pasture,' ' Big Bull Pasture,' <fec. You may be assured I felt 
very much at home in the ' Big Calf Pasture ! ' 

" Remember me to Oliver, and wishing you both as fine a 
time as I have had, 

" I remain your Friend and Classmate, 

" Robert Troup Paine." 



129 



EXTRACTS OF TWO LETTERS FROM MRS. M. M. BATCHELDER TO ROBERT'S 

MOTHER. 

" Cambridge, March 10 and June 8, 1851. 

" Dear Madam: — I beg you will permit me, in this your 
great affliction, to mingle my tears with, yours, and express the 
deep sympathy myself, and son, and daughter, feel for you in 
the distressing event which has so unexpectedly deprived us of 
a dearly "beloved friend. I pray God you may be enabled to 
bear the shock with some degree of fortitude, sustained by Him 
Who has said, ' I will not leave thee nor forsake thee.' 

" I had requested S. this morning to call on your son, as we 
were quite anxious to see him. He had ever been in the habit 
of visiting us in the most familiar manner, and we looked upon 
him with great regard. He had not been in to claim the floral 
picture which he had left with us, and which has so constantly 
reminded us of you. He told me with a smile of satisfaction 
that his Father gathered the flowers in many long walks." 

" How often has Robert passed my window with a bunch of 
flowers, and sometimes has brought them in to B. Once, I 
remember his saying he had had a most delightful walk of 
twenty miles that morning, while his face glowed with health 
and happiness." 



130 

" S. and Robert, from the circumstance of their religious 
feelings being much in unison, were very intimate during the 
Freshman and Sophomore years ; but S. had not strength for 
the long walks in which your Son delighted." 

" Robert was universally beloved and respected, and the 
talents he displayed promised a brilliant career. At the time 
of the dreadful catastrophe which cast such a fearful shadow 
over us, it was said by my family, and by all who knew him, 
that he was the last person in the College we should have 
named as committing the act. His path seemed strewed with 
flowers. Every thing which makes life valuable was his. But, 
here we see through a glass darkly. Our hearts rebel, our rea- 
son conijflains. But what is our life ? How soon will the hum- 
ble Christian acknowledge that the ' God of all the Earth doeth 
right.' " 

" Very truly your sympathizing Friend, 

" M. M. Batcheldee." 



EXTRACT OF A LETTER FROM MRS. GEORGE PAINE. 



" Boston, Mass., March 10, 1851. 

"My Dear Brother and Sister:" — "From having suffered 

myself, I know, full well, how little consolation words afford ; and, 

in like manner, I have learned how prone the bleeding heart 

is to look only at the darkest side of grief. So, allow me, your 



131 

elder sister in sorrow, to point out to you the -fairer side, which, 
at the least, must bring alleviation. This is, the recollection of 
Kobert's beautiful life. I have seen him sufficiently often to 
learn his habits of thought and his sweet confiding nature ; 
and nothing presents itself more distinctly to my mind than the 
singular purity of his character. There was an entire freedom 
from the taint which intercourse with the world sometimes 
gives, and which we deplore, not seldom, in young men of 
his asre. 

" How more and more, as the stunning effects of this afflic- 
tion subside, will you dwell with a sad satisfaction on his 
affectionate temper, his childlike, innocent, joyous spirit, won- 
drously blended, in his case, with the more manly qualities, as 
industry and perseverance in the investigations of science and 
learning. 

" What a pure joy, to look back over the twenty-one years 
of his blossoming youth, and see no act which has caused you 
to weep, no word that you could have wished unsaid. And, 
brighter still, to remember how very early his religious nature 
was unfolded, and how conscientiously he adhered to his own 
rule of right. Truly, my Friends, you have been blessed in 
having such a Son! And, although for a brief period he be 
hidden from your eyes, yet surely, yet surely, such a Son liveth. 
Oh yes, he liveth where there is no more pain. Nor has he 
lived here in vain. How has your care for him been the source 
of a well of gladness in your hearts, which else had dried up ! 



132 

How greatly has parental affection for this child developed the 
sunniest side of yourselves ! How marked the impression of 
his goodness left on the memory of his friends, every where ! 
Such fruits would be an ornament to maturer years, and they 
were already ripe with him. Dear, beautiful boy, thou sleepest 
well ! And, for yourselves, I pray you forget not that God is, 
and that he directs all in Love. 

" Very sincerely, your Friend and Sister, 

" M. O. Paine." 



EXTRACT OF A LETTER FROM MR. S. BATCHELDER, JR., TO ROBERT S 

MOTHER. 

" Cambridge, Mass., Sept. 29, 1851. 

" My Dear Madam : — I have taken the liberty of address- 
ing you in behalf of my Mother and Sister, who are at present 
fully occupied." 

" The correspondence which has passed between my Mother 
and Sister, and yourself, with respect to the melancholy bereave- 
ment which you have sustained, led me to resign into their 
hands the melancholy satisfaction of expressing to you, as one 
of Robert's Classmates and intimate friends, niy deep and ever- 
abiding sense of his character and manly virtues, and my most 
sincere and heartfelt sympathy with those Parents who have 
lost, in him, their sole earthly stay and comfort." 



133 

" Your Son was remarkable for great originality of thought, 
which impressed itself strongly on his conversation and man- 
ners, cheering and entertaining all ; while few would he able to 
account for the pleasure they experienced. This would natu- 
rally be easier for those who saw him but seldom, while those 
who were habitually in his society enjoyed his acute remarks, 
his salient wit, his cordial nature, without stopping to inquire 
into the source of their enjoyment, or to note each particular 
occasion and circumstance which called it forth. In vain do we, 
his Classmates and companions, who, at this moment, look back 
upon the years we spent together so pleasantly in College, 
strive to realize that he is no longer one of our number. It 
seems difficult to believe that at some approaching College 
anniversary we shall not again clasp the hand of our warm- 
hearted Classmate, and listen again, as we have so often listened, 
(alas, that it had been with more retentive ears,) to those words 
of his, which, as the imperfect utterance of a noble and gener- 
ous nature, rendered him, as it has since rendered his memory, 
inexpressibly dear to us. 

"Permit me, Madam, to hope that you will not attribute 
my past silence to indifference, or forgetfulness of the dead. 
There are few, if any, in our class who sustained a greater, a 
more irreparable' loss in the death of your Son, than myself. 
But all the grief of the companion, of the friend, pales and 
retires before that overwhelming, crushing sorrow, vast and 
incomprehensible in its magnitude, sublime and sacred in its 



134 

intensity, which only a parent's heart can feel in all its affluence 
of woe. 

" It would be not only presumptuous, but unnecessary in 
me, to allude to those consolations whose healing efficacy you 
have already, I know, experienced. Let me venture to hope 
that they will continue to alleviate the poignancy of your afflic- 
tion, and that in the sympathies and assurances of friends, and 
in the contemplation of the relics and mementoes of your Sou's 
life and character, you may secure that perfect and hopeful 
resignation, which is the Christian mourner's peculiar privilege, 
and only final consolation on Earth. 

" With sentiments of regard and sympathy for Dr. Paine, 
allow me to subscribe myself, my dear Madam, 

" Very respectfully and sincerely yours, 

" Samuel Batciielder, Jr." 



FROM MISS ISABELLA BATCHELDER TO ROBERTS MOTHER. 

" Cambridge, June 8, 1851. 
" My Dear Madam : ■ — I venture to send you some lines of 
mine, not from their intrinsic merit, but with the hope that 
they may interest you from the allusion to your Son. He was 
a true lover of Nature, in all her ever-varying forms ; and the 
conversations we had together usually turned upon flowers, a 
subject in which we heartily sympathized. I remember the 



135 

last time I saw hini, he spoke of the hyacinth as a favorite 
flower,* and as he described its beauty his eyes lighted up with 
enthusiasm, such as only an ardent admirer of these 'stars of 
Earth' could feel. He has ever since been associated in my 
mind with that grief-inscribed and mournful flower, as the 
Greeks term it ; and when I look upon its blossoms, his form 
rises before me as I last saw him, the impersonation of health 
and cheerfulness. 

" The two other Persons mentioned in the verses are a 
daughter of Nathan Hale, of Boston, and Miss Porter, a sister 
of one of your Son's Classmates. 

" Accept my deepest sympathy in your sorrows, and believe 
me, dear Madam, 

" Very truly yours, 

" Isabella Batcheldee." 



* It was so throughout his childhood. For many years before he entered Col- 
lege he cultivated this plant in his chamber. He continued this practice at his room 
in College till the last winter, when, his Mother missing them from theh accustomed 
place, inquired the reason of their absence. He answered that he had ceased to raise 
them, " as it was too painful to see them die." 



13G 

IN MEMORY OF 

E. T. PAINE, S. E. HALE, 

AND 

A. POETEE. 



" Weeping Mourners in their anguish 

Slight the comfort Friends can give ; 
Sympathy of tears and sighing 

Cannot make the lost ones live. 
Ye have stood beneath the shadow 

That Asrael's pinions left ; 
'Mid your darkness and your sorrow 

Comes the thought that 'Jesus wept.' 

" To His sufferings, more than human, 

With the weight of worlds oppressed, 
Outcast from His own Creation, 

Finding here no home of rest, 
Yet He mourned with pitying feeling 

O'er the grave where Lazarus slept ; 
Nature claimed from grief a token 

When the sinless 'Jesus wept.' 

" Still the words that once He uttered 
Bring to us the self-same trust, 
Though we heard the saddening sentence 
' Earth to Earth, and dust to dust.' 



137 

Standing at Death's gloomy portal, 
Faith has made the vision plain ; 

'Tis the seed-time, not the harvest, 
And our friends shall rise again. 

" These three Spirits, who have left us 

For the joys from us concealed, 
Heard their Master's Heavenly teachings 

In the Lilies of the field. 
Lovers of the buds and flowers, 

Like the glorious King of old, 
They in each one found a lesson 

Precious as the hoarded gold. 

" Thou, the first, who passed in silence, 

Closed thine eyes upon the light 
As the lamp of reason flickered, 

Leaving thee in darkest night ; 
Yet the blossoms that thou lovedst 

Smiled around thy mournful bier, 
For the Violet and the Snowdrop 

Told that Spring again was near. 

" And the Hyacinth's pale ringlets, 

With its tones of deepest woe * 
Spake thy Parents' withering sorrow, 
'Neath the agonizing blow. 



* " In the flower he weaved 

The sad impression of his sighs ; which hears 
Ai — di displayed in funeral characters." — Ovid. 
18 



138 

Friendship turns to thee, fair Maiden, 
From thy weary couch of pain ; 

Thou hast passed the gate of darkness — 
Can we call thee back again ? 

" Bright one, like the Fuschia glowing, 

Gentle as the Lily's breath, 
Full of health, and life, and feeling — 

Where the link 'twixt thee and death ? 
Memory " x " wakes a note of sadness, 

And again the Almond tree 
Sheds its wreath of pale Spring blossoms, 

Dearest, over thee. 

" Suddenly the dark-robed Angel 

Bore the third pure Spirit home ; 
Life was bright, and hope before her, 

But the Saviour bade her come. 
She, too, joined the Heavenly chorus, 

With unfading flowerets crowned ; 
Plants of earth breathe — resurgemus, 

Springing from the hallowed ground." 



The day of this Friend's death was the Anniversary of that of another. 



139 



LETTERS FROM ROBERT'S CLASSMATES AT COLUMBIA COLLEGE 
GRAMMAR SCHOOL. 



EXTRACT OF A LETTER FROM MR. BABCOCK, A STUDENT OF DIVINITY, 

TO DR. PAINE. 

" New- York, May, 1851. 

" Dear Sir : — The token which your kind consideration 
prompted you to send me I received on Saturday last, and take 
this means of expressing to you my thanks. It will remain 
with me a memento of your Son, and a remembrance of school- 
boy associations, with which he was so largely connected. 
Those associations stand separate and distinct ; and however 
recent events have cast a shade where the heart would fain 
have traced the line of early and bright relation, I remember 
Robert chiefly as I knew him then. He has left us, indeed, but 
it was and is a gratification to my feelings that I could join in 
the last act of respect we can pay. 

" My intercourse with your Son within the school-room was 
peculiarly close, for in the strife for place in the class I was 
continually brought into contact with him, and had a favorable 
opportunity of testing his intellectual qualities. After reading 



140 

your letter (addressed to the Senior Class of Harvard College,) 
I find an explanation, too, for other parts of his character, less 
likely to be appreciated by boys, and under the restraint of 
school. His fondness for the Scriptures appeared in every 
Essay he was required to write, though we were too apt to 
attribute the allusions or literal quotations to a mere habit of 
composition, or perhaps the suggestions of others.* 

" His perseverance was a remarkable trait, and the deter- 
mined energy with which he would follow out a favorite object, 
left firmly fixed upon me the. impression that he would attain 
eminence in the profession to which his inclination should lead 
him. I felt that there was some one for which he was peculi- 
arly fitted, though what it would be I could only conjecture. I 
will mention the following incident. The last year we were 
together, our first recitation in the morning was Greek gram- 
mar. In this Robert determined to perfect himself, and accord- 
ingly took the lead of his class. There, week in and week out 
he used to sit, and our efforts and artifices alike were seldom 
able to displace him ; or if dislodged towards the end of the 
week, the average standing would return him again to his 
post. 

" After I entered College I rarely met him, though at his 
last visit to the City he spent an hour with me on Friday eve- 
ning previous to his journey South. We spent the time in talk- 

* No suggestion to this effect was ever made to him by his Parents. 



141 

ing over past days, and he informed me of the fortunes of some 
common acquaintances of whom I had lost sight." 

" I can sympathize in the fond eagerness with which you 
would have watched his course, and seen him giving up his life 
to his Redeemer's cause, in the labors of the holy ministry. 
Nay, I can come nearer yet. Had it been God's will, how glad 
should I have been to have co-operated with him in that field 
where still ' the harvest is plenteous, but the laborers are few? 
But, while we are prone to wonder, that, amid this dearth, one 
should be cut off who would have given himself to the work, 
who will pretend to say that the sad event has not done more 
for that very cause he loved, than a living sacrifice of his time 
and talents ? If it be required that one be horn blind ' that the 
works of God should be made manifest in him,' surely we may 
conclude that the same imperative necessity directs the other 
dispensations of our Heavenly Father ; that He seeks His own 
Glory in the promotion of our welfare." 

" With the prayer that your bereavement may be softened 
to both the Parents of my Friend by the constant presence of 
the Comforter, and that his early death shall fully work out 
the designs of Heavenly Mercy by leading his Associates to the 
Gospel warning and invitation, I remain, 

" Most respectfully yours, 

" E. C. Babcock." 



142 



EXTEACT OF A LETTER FROM MR. J. F. SCHRCEDER, JR. 

" New-York, May 27, 1851. 

"Respected Sir: — I have received the token which you 
was pleased to transmit to me as a memorial of your deceased 
Sou ; and, need I say that I shall cherish it as a prize around 
which shall cluster the most endearing associations. It will 
ever call to mind the many happy hours that have been passed 
by the writer in the company of him, whose untimely death is 
mourned the most by those who knew him the best." 

" During the much too brief period that we were Classmates 
at the Grammar School, he who addresses you was proud to 
number Robert Troup Paine among his friends. Indeed, his 
uniform sweetness of disposition won golden opinions from us 
all. The unceasing contest between ambitious spirits, insepara- 
ble from a life at school, occasionally awoke from slumber the 
harsher feelings of our nature. But, respected Sir, in all the 
well-meant, though earnest battles fought by those who pressed 
the gates of learning, your Son was ever the same happy mor- 
tal ; never scrupling to assist a rival, yet proud, withal, of that 
self-reliance which thus far had borne him nobly on. He 
inflicted no wound, and brooded over no fancied wrong. He 
pursued ' the even tenor of his way,' preserving his honor ever 



143 

untainted, never courting Virtue on account of the benefits 
which flow in her train, but for her own sacred self. He fixed 
his eyes on the Temple for the sake of the Divinity which 
dwelt within. 

" If, indeed, he had ambition, it was unmarked by grossness. 
It was pure and elevated in its manifestation ; such as we might 
suppose the Angels to cherish in their efforts to outstrip one 
another in their approaches to the Fountain of Truth and Per- 
fect Intelligence. While he moved among us he was marked 
by that sensitiveness of spirit, which often, we might say inva- 
riably, accompanies exalted merit ; yet on no occasion, to my 
recollection, did that sensitiveness degenerate into vindictive- 
ness. No, when his sense of pride was wounded, he summoned 
Philosophy and Religion to his aid. Still, his mind seemed 
deeply tinged with melancholy. He rather kept aloof from 
company. The Themes, which were weekly required of our 
Class, were of a grave and serious nature. He seemed to soar 
far above the practicabilities of life, ' ever dwelling in the 
Heaven of contemplation.' His favorite, as declamation exer- 
cise, was a piece entitled the ' Ocean,' to be found, if I mistake 
not, in 'Lovell's U. S. Speaker.' 

" Robert's Classmates were early impressed with the convic- 
tion that he possessed an extraordinary mind ; and those with 
whom he was most intimate, were willing to prophesy that he 
would rise to eminence in any station of life. Yet, with all 
his abilities, he was distinguished for a genuine modesty ; and, 



144 

when he did rank above his fellows in the honors of his class 
(which was by no means seldom) his elevation was oftentimes 
much against his own desire. The consciousness of superior 
merit, with him, was a sufficient reward. 

" In truth, Sir, his conduct, view it in what light we choose, 
was exemplary, commanding the respect of his equals, and 
securing the esteem of his Instructors. I feel, Sir, that to offer 
consolation on an occasion so mournful as the one which forms 
the subject of my epistle, would but be a mockery of your sor- 
row. The power of consolation resides in Higher Hands. ' Let 
us humbly kiss the rod,' and acknowledge that He ordereth all 
things well. 

" Yours, with feelings of the deepest respect, 

" John F. Schrozder, Jr. 
"Dr. M. Paine." 



The foregoing portrait is by a student of Divinity, Son of 
the Eev. Dr. Schrceder ; and how well it is drawn, and how 
well it corresponds with Kobert's later life, will be seen from 
the preceding correspondence. 

Other very gratifying letters have been received, which the 
Parents have felt less at liberty to connect with the Memoir. 



145 



RESOLUTIONS OF ROBERT'S CLASSMATES AT THE GRAMMAR SCHOOL OF 
COLUMBIA COLLEGE. 



"At a meeting of the former Classmates of Robert Troup 
Paine, deceased, late of the Senior Class of Harvard University, 
held in this City, March 19, the following Resolutions were, on 
motion, unanimously adopted : 

"Resolved, — That, in the melancholy death of Robert Troup 
Paine, we have cause for the profoundest sorrow in losing a 
Schoolmate, whose strict integrity, superior abilities, and perse- 
vering application, gave us every reason to expect he would, 
ere long, have realized the abundant promise of his earlier 
years, and rendered it no light honor to have been associated 
with him in his youthful studies. 

" Resolved, — That in him we deplore the loss of a friend, 
who, though separated from us during the last four years, while 
pursuing his studies at an Eastern College, has not failed to 
maintain the intimacy of former days, and whose generous dis- 
position and kindly heart won our affection and esteem. 

"Resolved, — -That when we remember, as we mourn over his 
early grave, that his College career was so near its close, and 
his prospects in life apparently so bright, we fully realize ' the 
ways of the Lord are past finding out.' 



146 

" Resolved, — That we most deeply sympathize with the 
desolate Parents of the deceased in the agonizing bereavement 
they have sustained, in the loss of their only child and beloved 
Son. 

"Resolved, — That a copy of these Resolutions, signed by 
the Chairman and Secretary of the meeting, be sent to the 
Parents, and published in two of the daily papers. 

" George F. Seymour, Chairman. 

" Charles A. Sillbian, Sedy? 



In concluding this part of the Memoir, his Parents would 
recur to the melancholy circumstances which attended the 
death of their Son, and, as far as possible, supply an interpreta- 
tion. This has been done, so far as a manifest physical cause 
was concerned, in his Father's Letter to the Senior Class, and 
also in a preceding part of the Memoir. To the susceptibility 
of the brain, as there indicated, may be added the probability 
that he was compelled, on his recent journey to the South, to 
eat of the stimulating food which he had always found it neces- 
sary to avoid. It is another explanatory fact, that, on the first 
morning of the three days which he spent at home, after his 
return, he slept till nine o'clock, and on that of the second 
morning till eleven. This was so opposed to his uniform habit 
of early rising, that his Parents were alarmed, till, after having 
been repeatedly called by themselves, his usual appearance of 



147 

health and buoyancy dissipated their fears. But, more than 
this, he slept in his chair, in the parlor, on the afternoon of the 
first of those days, for an hour, while he had very rarely been 
known before to have slept in the time of day ; and now, too, 
he was hurried in his preparations for returning to College. It 
was the subject of considerable comment between his Parents, 
who, although relieved by his appearance of health and cheer- 
fulness, entertained a lingering apprehension that all was not 
right. He also made one remark to his Mother which seemed 
to her incoherent, and which is now obviously so to both of his 
Parents. It was observed, too, during the three days, and was 
a subject of inquiries addressed to Robert, that he was indifferent 
to his meals, and, wholly contrary to his habits, was inobservant 
of their hours ; that he ate more sparingly, and of fewer things 
of which he was fond, than he had been known to have done 
for many years before. 

There remains, however, what is undoubtedly an unequivo- 
cal evidence, especially when connected with the foregoing facts 
and with the well known susceptibility of his brain, that insanity 
occasionally manifested itself before his final departure for Cam- 
bridge, although not understood at the time. This was a wild 
stare, attended by a glassy appearance of his eyes, which was 
noticed on one occasion by his Mother, and on another by his 
Father. The first was observed by his Mother, as he stood up 
in the parlor just before retiring to bed on the evening preced- 
ing his departure for Cambridge. The effect of the stare upon 



148 

his Mother was such as to induce her to follow him to his 
chamber to ascertain whether there was any trouble affecting 
him. She found him, however, cheerful and happy. The other 
occasion, as witnessed by his Father, was when they were riding 
together to the steamboat, at the time of his leaving the City. 
The effect upon his Parents was so very unhappy that neither 
mentioned it to the other till some time after his death. At 
the expiration of eight months after that event, his Aunt and 
her Daughter in this city stated to his Parents that they had 
witnessed the same thing, at different times in the course of his 
visit, ' and were affected unpleasantly by it. The same expres- 
sion was also observed by a servant who had resided many 
years in his Father's house, and was so unusual that she spoke 
of it some months after his death, as a suggestion of her own. 
She had also repeatedly stated that she had observed during 
his late visit a change in his manners, particularly an abruptness 
which she had never seen before. Had all these things been 
known, collectively, at the time, the condition of the Youth 
would have been sufficiently manifest. 

Doubtless, his paternal Grandmother witnessed a pretty 
strong display of this temporary insanity as early as the Christ- 
mas of 1850, at which time he made her a visit at Haverhill- 
This consisted of " an indescribable restlessness that gave her 
much alarm ; " as explained verbally to his Father. That was 
the amount of all he could learn. His Grandmother had known 
him intimately from his earliest infancy to the last, and she had 



149 

never before witnessed any thing in his manners but perfect 
equanimity and gentleness. The following letter from her to 
his Father will show the nature of her surprise and anxiety. 
Although 83 years of age, her judgment and observation were 
unimpaired. 



LETTER FROM MRS. SARAH PAINE TO HER SON, DR. PAINE. 

" Haverhill, Mass., April 4, 1851. 

" My Dear Doctor : — I have received several letters from 
you since I wrote you ; and, although I have not felt much like 
writing on the subject, still I should have made an effort, had I 
not been convinced by long experience that grief as intense as 
yours must have been, is not consoled by sympathy ; and I 
believe that Solomon says something to the same effect. No, 
my dear Son, we must draw upon our own resources, and appeal 
to God in the silent watches of the night ; for, whatever else 
may be said, He alone has done it, and He that inflicted the 
wound can alone cure it. 

" I think that Eobert's mind was far from being in a healthy 
state when he was here last (Dec. 25, 1850), and Jane (her 
niece) remarked it too, and we conversed upon it several times. 
But I could not feel justified in alarming you upon the subject. 
Jane thought it would prove to be transient ; but that did not 
satisfy me. Go where I would, and do what I would, he was 



150 

always uppermost in my mind. I had not the power to shake off 
the undefinable impression ; and that I think is the reason why 
I received the first intelligence with so much composure. I had 
been so long in preparation for something, though I could not 
tell what, that I was not taken by surprise. My love to your 
wife. I design this letter for you both. 

" Your Mother." 



Robert returned from his visit on the 26th of December, 
and on that day he handed in the Forensic numbered Article 
XIV., written a little more than two months before his death. 

It is also an important circumstance to be stated, although 
long known to many, that his Mother's paternal Grandmother 
was insane for many years, and that the Brother of his Mother 
was affected with monomania. This Brother was a highly edu- 
cated man, and belonged to the Bar of New- York. He evinced 
an early piety, was very strictly devout through the residue of 
his life, and was a model of purity. But, he fancied, for many 
years, that he was haunted by an evil spirit, which was fre- 
quently whispering evil designs into his ears. Among these 
hallucinations the principal one was a stern injunction that he 
should commit some terrible act of violence ; and this embit- 
tered his happiness. He was often known to command this 
evil spirit to depart from him. He died at the age of forty- 
three years. 



151 

As this Memoir will generally fall into the hands of those 
who are unacquainted with the indications of beginning insan- 
ity, and being friends of the Youth, they will be anxious for 
any assistance that may guide their judgment to a clear percep- 
tion of the state of his mind. The following quotation is, 
therefore, introduced. 



EXTRACT FROM DR. BADELEY'S LUMLEIAN LECTURES OK THE RECIPRO- 
CAL AGENCIES OF MIND AND MATTER. 

" Since, then, the invasion of insanity is generally gradual, the slight- 
est alteration in the habits or natural disposition (especially when there 
exists an hereditary tendency), should be carefully observed. Few people 
are phrenologists, but all are physiognomists ; and the expression of the 
countenance, and particularly of the eye, will frequently give the first 
notice of the incubation. It shrinks from the popular gaze, and catches 
furtive glances of the visitor. It has a sly, and a fixed and downward 
look ; or, it has a vagrant and vacant expression. In some it has a 
quickness and restlessness. But, be the bias what it may, there is an 
indescribable character beaming through its glassy surface, which tells 
the tale to the experienced observer. In the exercise of my office of 
visiting physician to the asylums in Essex for the last twenty-four years, 
I have always studied this feature, and have found it most valuable in 
assisting me to decide on the existence of mental disease, where the 
aberration has been so slight, or the part of sanity so ably acted, as to 
almost deceive the magistrates who have accompanied me in my visita- 
tions. Dr. Male says, ' Insanity may generally be discovered by a wild- 
ness in the eyes ; very high or very low spirits ; extravagant or inconsis- 
tent conversation or action. The eyes are sometimes fixed for a long 



152 

time on one object, and often on vacuity. These faint symptoms usually 
pass unnoticed by inexperienced observers ; and it is frequently difficult 
to convince them that the Individual is insane, unless his conversation is 
absolutely incoherent, or his conduct dangerous.' 

" The acuteness of the insane in disguising their malady is astonish- 
ing. In a case of madness tried at Chester before Lord Mansfield, the 
patient was so clever that he evaded questions in court the whole day, 
and seemed to everybody perfectly sane. Dr. Batty, however, came into 
court, and, knowing the point of the man's derangement, asked what 
had become of the princess with whom he had been in the habit of cor- 
responding in cherry -juice? Instantly, the man forgot himself, and said 
it was true that he had been confined in a castle, where, for want of pen 
and ink, he had written his letters in cherry-juice, and thrown them into 
the stream below, where the princess had received them in a boat. This 
man had had sagacity enough, during the whole day, to answer correctly 
all the questions put to him in court, Lord Mansfield being the presiding 
judge. Even the acuteness of Lord Erskine was insufficient (being 
unacquainted with his particular hallucination) to detect the insanity of 
a lunatic who fancied himself to be Christ ; and he was indebted for the 
discovery to the presence of Dr. Sims. 

" Sleeplessness is another predominant feature in early as well as in 
matured insanity. The sensorium is too morbidly alive to sanction 
healthy rest, and the busy imagination is at work by night as well as by 
day." 

The Parents have hesitated as to exhibiting the following 
letters to the friends of their Son. But, as they form so clear 
an index to the growing susceptibility of his mind, and enable 
us to discern its liability to a more serious convulsion, and are, 
withal, so indicative of the purity and excellence of his disposi- 
tion, they have concluded to subjoin them. Such, however, 



153 

■was the habitual equilibrium of his miud, and so great his self- 
control, that his Parents were only temporarily alarmed by a 
perturbation of which they had not before witnessed any dis- 
play whatever. There was, also, a very general terror prevail- 
ing in regard to the cholera, particularly in all places where it 
did not exist ; and when it appeared for the first time in this 
City, there was an immediate flight of three-fourths of the 
population. The letters, therefore, scarcely go farther than 
what multitudes felt, and many might have written under simi- 
lar circumstances ; and it is the general placidity of his mind 
which imparts to them an interest in interpreting other unusual 
manifestations which may have been witnessed by his friends, 
and the displays of insanity which preceded his death. 

It should be premised, that when the letters were written, 
the malignant cholera was prevailing in New- York, and that 
both of his Parents were in feeble health. The immediate 
cause, also, of his apprehensions, was the sudden death of his 
maternal Grandfather by that disease, and to whom he was 
greatly attached. As to the Telegraphic messages of which he 
speaks, there were several, and two of them were sent on one 
day. They consisted of an earnest entreaty that his Parents 
would leave the City immediately. This they did, by going to 
him as soon as they could make the necessary arrangements, 
and then remained with him nearly two months. In the mean 
time, his Uncle and Aunt Dunn, of Boston, soon succeeded in 
greatly quieting his fears, which they represent as amounting to 



154 

almost a state of frenzy, and lie was constantly informed by 
telegraph and letters of the condition of his Parents. His 
alarm was put at rest as soon as his Father assured him that 
there were but a very few cases of the disease in the City, and 
that no one manifested the least anxiety about its prevalence. 



" Cambridge, June 23, 1849, 9 o'clock P. M. 
" Dear Father : — The shocking news of my Grandfather's 
death has just reached me, but it took me little by surprise ; for 
I should not have been surprised to hear of the death of any 
one who is now in New- York City. I have, for some time, been 
afraid to open a letter, or look into a paper, lest I should see 
yours or Mother's death announced ; and every letter I write is 
with the extreme uncertainty whether you will ever open it. 
Such, dear Father, you knowing to be the state of my feelings, 
it is indeed strange, very strange, that you and Mother do not 
leave, and come to kinder climes. I think you do wrong, wrong 
both to yourselves and to me. Strange ! Strange ! 'Tis very 
strange, since you told Grandmother, told me, told all, that if 
the cholera came you should certainly leave the City, that you 
had done your part with that disease in former years ; and yet, 
although it is the hottest weather we have ever had in this 
country, and, although it is past your usual time for leaving the 
City, even in healthy summers, and although Mother is subject 



155 

to bowel complaint in hot weather, yet you both will remain in 
that Court of Death. I declare, I shall be afraid to look into 
Monday's paper ! 

" This is an unvarnished account of the state of my feelings. 
There will be no use in writing letters. The only way to relieve 
me, and probably to save your own fives, is to leave the City 
and come this way. Do not delay ; leave the next, or the same 
day you receive this, for my fears grow stronger every minute. 
Do not put it off a day, for it may be too late. 

" I went to Haverhill on Thursday, and returned this eve- 
ning. Grandmother is nicely. Thermometer at Haverhill, 
Thursday and Friday, 101°. Do not go to Haverhill. 

" Your very anxious Son, 

" Robert Troup Paine." 



" Boston, June 24, 1849. 

" Dear Father : — I have come to Boston, with the design 
of going to New- York, to-morrow, for the purpose of taking 
Mother off on Tuesday morning ; for I feel most extremely 
anxious. I have, however, been persuaded by my Uncle not to 
go, only out of the consideration that it might alarm my 
Mother to such a degree as to bring on an attack of the 
cholera. 

" I have just been to the Telegraph office, to say that I 



156 

wished Mother to come on in the first boat which should leave 
after she received the dispatch. The wires, however, are out 
of order. 

" I feel exceedingly alarmed lest you or she may have an 
attack of the cholera, particularly Mother, for there are several 
things, which, all together, are more than likely to bring on an 
attack ; her disturbed state of mind caused by the death of her 
Father, her susceptibility to bowel-complaint, the extremely hot 
weather, and, also, the certainty of an attack if she should com- 
mit a single act of imprudence. 

" You will receive this letter Tuesday morning, and I beg 
and entreat that you will both leave on Tuesday night, by the 
boat — by all means Mother. Do not answer by letter, for by 
the time that a letter will reach me I wish Mother to be here. 
But I must entreat you, as soon as you receive this letter, to 
send on a dispatch by Telegraph, saying that Mother will leave 
Tuesday evening. This will relieve me, and it is the only thing 
that will do it. 

" Have Mother leave, by all means, on Tuesday night. 
" Your affectionate and extremely anxious Son, 

" Kobert Troup Paine. 

" I say once more, come Tuesday night." 



157 



" Cambridge, June 25, 1849. 
" Dear Father : — I wrote from Boston yesterday, express- 
ing my earnest wishes that you should both leave as quick as 
possible, but that Mother should leave immediately, and that 
you -would send me a Telegraphic dispatch as soon as you 
receive the letter, saying that Mother will leave on Tuesday 
night. The wires will be in order before that time. Direct as 
follows : 

" Robert Troup Paine, 

" Harvard University, 

" Hollis Hall, No. 1, 
" and say, ' Mother will leave to-night? 
" I shall receive it promptly. 

" Your affectionate Son, 

" Robert Troup Paine." 



" Cambridge, June 25, 1849. 

" Dear Father : — I am much worried by a letter which I 
received to-day from Mother, which has been delayed for some 
time upon the route. She says, ' I had better wait till Pa is 
ready to leave.' 

" I believe I shall become distracted, if you do not come at 
once. My fears have now become so great as to interfere with 



158 

my studies. If my Mother do not come on immediately, and 
you within a day or two, I know not how I can bear it. If you 
are not ready till a day or two, I beg, I entreat, I implore that 
she may be placed under the care of some one, and may leave 
immediately. I shall look for her on Wednesday morning ; but 
if she be not here on Thursday morning, I believe I shall go 
distracted. Don't, I entreat you, write letters. They will do 
no good. Let Mother come on, and not wait for a trunk, as 
you can bring that on, or it can be sent by Express. 

" Let her, I entreat, come on immediately, and you follow 
her soon after. It is all I ask. 

" Your affectionate Son, 

" Kobert Troup Paine." 



" Cambridge, June 26, 1849. 
" Dear Father : — I received the Telegraphic dispatch in 
due time. I was indeed happy to hear that you are all well, 
but was extremely sorry when you said that you have written 
me ; which implies that Mother will not leave the City as soon 
as I hoped. But I suppose, of course, that she will have left 
before you shall have received this letter, after all the concern 
I have expressed, and which I shall make still more manifest 
to-morrow by Telegraph, unless your letter should say that you 
are coming on immediately, and for this purpose I must lose a 
recitation. The only thing that prevented me from going to 



159 

New- York was the fear of causing you alarm lest I should con- 
tract the cholera. The only thing I ask is, that Mother may 
come on immediately, and you soon afterwards, and this only 
will allay my fears about you both. Don't write, but come on 

immediately. 

" Your affectionate Son, 

" Robert Troup Paine." 



" Cambridge, June 26, 1849. 
" Dear Father: — I have written you one letter already 
this evening. I have set down to study, but cannot. For 
Heaven's sake, when you receive this letter send me a dispatch, 
saying that Mother is coming, not a week or a day hence, but 
immediately, and that you are coming either with her or very 
soon afterwards. There will be no use in saying any thing else. 
This alone will quiet me. 

" Your affectionate Son, 

" Robert Troup Paine. 
" P. S. If you cannot come for a day or two, you can put 
her under the care of the Captain of the Steamboat." 



160 

His Parents now come to what they regard as immediate 
exciting causes of the fatal act ; one of which they suppose to 
have been the struggle which was going on in his mind, and 
which had just begun, as to the Profession which he should 
adopt. This will appear from some of the letters relative to 
his death. 

Another immediate exciting cause, as his Parents believe, 
may be found in the first of the Cambridge Theses (Article II., 
page 29), although that Thesis equally shows that he was 
steeled, to the last degree, against self-destruction. There, and 
in Article III., and in his Letters relative to the cholera, will be 
found a sensitiveness through which reason might be readily 
disturbed by slight physical derangements of the brain, or by 
unusual and sudden emotions. 

The subject of the Thesis (Article II.) is manifestly of a 
difficult nature. To discuss it in Robert's manner seems to 
require a mind of great refinement, and of great devotional 
feeling. It will be conceded, too, that a better exposition can- 
not be easily made, and this only by one who entertains "an 
unspeakable pleasure in a consciousness of his own purity and 
holiness," and who feels it " delightful to hold communion with 
his God, and to be assured of His smiles." The subject had 
manifestly engaged his whole soul. He was never known to 
have evinced greater happiness than during the few days pre- 
ceding his death, and even on the fatal day ; and it would seem 
that aberration of mind when thus elated would be likely to 



161 

seize upon the prospect of future bliss, and thus induce the Sub- 
ject to imagine that he "had reached that stage in his progress, 
in which the highest pleasure that this life can afford is the 
anticipation of that which is to come." 

It is true, that Thesis is an argument against self-destruction ; 
and the horror with which he regarded this act may be seen, 
also, at the close of a Theme, dated November 30th, 1846, and 
which forms the last of the series written at the Grammar 
School of Columbia College. The act is there introduced as 
the climax of " crimes," and it is manifest from Article II. that 
he never lost that opinion of its nature. But rational opinions 
yield to the promptings of imagination when judgment loses its 
control. This is constantly true even of such as are not insane. 
What, also, is said by St. Paul is not unlikely to have had an 
influence, under the supposed circumstances, with one so conver- 
sant with the Scriptures as Robert ; namely, " For to me to live 
is Christ, and to die is gain. But, if I live in the flesh, this is 
the fruit of my labor. Yet what I shall choose I wot not ; for 
I am in a strait betwixt two, having a desire to depart and to 
be with Christ, which is far better. Nevertheless, to abide in 
the flesh is more needful for you." 

Turning, also, to other Compositions written at the Univer- 
sity, and during his connection with the Grammar School of 
Columbia College, we find the same temper of mind manifested ; 
and, it is worthy of remark, that, although there are frequent 
references to death, he rarely speaks of the grave, but of the 



162 



departed spirit. The happiness which he enjoyed is also a 
characteristic trait of his writings ; and the source of his uni- 
versal popularity consisted in his cheerfulness and good nature, 
which, as Addison says, " are the two great ornaments of virtue 
that show her in the most advantageous views, and make her 
altogether lovely. These generally go together, as a man cannot 
be agreeable to others who is not easy within himself. They 
are both very requisite in a virtuous mind, to keep out melan- 
choly from the many serious thoughts it is engaged in, and to 
hinder its natural hatred of vice from running into severity and 
censoriousness." The friends of this Youth cannot but be 
forcibly impressed with the justice of these sentiments as now 
applied by his Parents. Indeed, his Parents believe that there 
never was a character more truly described than in the follow- 
ing language of the Psalmist : 

" Lord, who shall abide in thy tabernacle ? Who shall 
dwell in thy holy hill ? He that walketh uprightly, and work- 
eth righteousness, and speaketh truth in his heart. He that 
backbiteth not with his tongue, nor doeth evil to his neighbor, 
nor taketh up a reproach against his neighbor ; in whose eyes a 
vile person is contemned ; but he honoreth them that fear the 
Lord. He that sweareth to his own hurt, and changeth not. 
He that putteth not out his money to usury, nor taketh reward 
against the innocent. He that doeth these things shall never 
be moved." 

Those most nearly interested in this Memoir, in taking their 






163 

leave of Robert's Friends, and of others who have sympathized 
with them, cannot refrain from expressing the hope that their 
Son has not lived in vain ; that much may be found in his life, 
especially as delineated in his Essays, that will warm their 
Religion and virtue, and light up that smile of happiness with 
which the contemplation of God and Nature adorned his coun- 
tenance, or which flowed from the pursuit of studies and plea- 
sures that awakened his grateful sensibilities : for " he lived in a 
perpetual sense of the Divine Presence, regarded himself as 
acting, in the whole course of his existence, under the observa- 
tion and inspiration of that Being Who was privy to all his 
motions and all his thoughts, and as if always conscious that He 
observed his ' down-sitting, and his uprising, that He was about 
his path, and about his bed, and spying out all his ways.' " 
May they not hope that the very manner of his death may 
enforce upon us the solemn conviction, that, " in the midst of 
life we are in death ; " that all the beautiful love of life and of 
Heaven which glows in the first of the recorded Theses (Article 
n.) cannot protect us for a moment when that Reason which 
he so eloquently exalts in the second (Article IH.) may be 
suddenly impaired, nor all the veneration of the Bible which 
appears in the third (Article P7.) and in most of his composi- 
tions, nor any purity of life, nor youthful buoyancy, nor the 
endearments of love and friendship, nor health, nor happiness, 
nor an unclouded future which promised him an exemption 
from every care or labor he might choose to avoid ? 



164 

" But, though the righteous be prevented with death, yet 
shall he be at rest. For honorable age is not that which stand- 
eth in length of time, nor that is measured by number of years. 
But wisdom is the gray hah' unto men, and an unspotted life is 
old age. He pleased God, and was beloved of him ; so he was 
speedily taken away, lest that wickedness should alter his 
understanding, or deceit beguile his soul. He, being made per- 
fect in a short time, fulfilled a long time ; for his soul pleased 
the Lord. Therefore hasted He to take him away." 

The Parents of this Child have fulfilled an unusual duty. 
They could not permit his worth to be impaired, in the opinion 
of any one, by the last act of his life, nor to be lost to his 
Friends. May the blessing of God rest upon their labor. For 
themselves, they can desire no greater favor of Heaven than to 
be enabled to imitate his virtues, and that "strong, steady, mas- 
culine piety" which began in his infancy, and which he carried 
with him to his Heavenly inheritance. Perhaps few have 
suffered a greater bereavement ; for the object which has been 
withdrawn was almost their only earthly source of happiness, 
the subject, for more than twenty years, of their sleepless 
thoughts and cares ; and, having lived to witness that full 
development of his moral and physical being which they had 
so fondly desired, they were looking to the future with brighter 
hopes than ever. These have been suddenly arrested. They 
were prepared, however, by their habits of retirement and 
reflection, for seizing upon that only resource which can sustain 



165 

the afflicted under such a bereavement; and if it can be of any 
service to others, or advance, in the least, the cause of Christi- 
anity, they will most gratefully say that it has not failed of its 
inestimable promise. 

They now proceed with other brief collegiate and academic 
Essays, which are arranged more in conformity with the rela- 
tive nature of the subjects than the order in which they were 
written. 



THESES AND FORENSICS CONTINUED, — WRITTEN AT HARVARD 
UNIVERSITY. 



THESIS — AETICLE VI. 

" ' THE INSEPARABLE ENEMIES OF GREATNESS.' 

" Man has three lives, the moral, intellectual, and animal ; 
the latter in common with brutes, while the two former place 
him at the head of the visible Creation. There has been, accord- 
ingly, implanted in his breast, an ambition to soar above Earth, 
and to tread in paths unknown below ; aye, and he is not satis- 
fied until he comes to God himself. In short, it is a desire to 
become all that is implied in the word ' Great.' 

" As man is thus endowed, and as he can cultivate the one 
faculty without the other, the word ' Greatness ' has come to 



166 

have two significations, according as it implies the training of 
the one or the other to a high degree of improvement. To 
understand their inseparable enemies, it is necessary to bear in 
mind the nature and tendencies of each faculty. 

" When the aspirant after fame has attained his object, and 
his name is wafted on every breeze, he finds himself surrounded 
by enemies that he dreamed not of ; that the bliss which he 
had anticipated was, at most, but an agreeable illusion, to 
become embittered by envy, scorn, and jealousy. But, a 
greater than these lurks within his own bosom. There festers 
pride, and fills the heart with corruption. 

" Of all the enemies which beset the man of fame, the last 
mentioned may be considered the most foolish, and most calcu- 
lated to bring down contempt, which, in its turn, engenders 
unkind feelings and separates man from his brother man. It is 
foolish, because it originates with himself, and seeks the good of 
self. It shows that, whatever a man has mastered, he is not 
master of himself. 

" Of what, indeed, should a man be proud, whatever be his 
attainments, whatever his walk in life ? Why should he be 
proud that he has succeeded, while so many who have started 
from the same point, and rushed toward the same goal, have 
failed in their undertaking ? Let him remember that he is 
brother to the most abject of his race, and let him think of 
Him Who hath made them to differ, and his pride will be hum- 
bled to the dust. 



167 

" Let us now, for a moment, consider the cause and effect of 
jealousy. It may be said that this is not inseparable from 
greatness. But we think otherwise. Why does one look with 
an anxious eye, or with ill-will, upon the least advancement in 
reputation and honor among his rivals ? Why does he not 
rather commend and encourage them ? This is common enough ; 
and the answer must be sought in the corruption of his nature, 
— and what else than jealousy? I need not dwell upon the 
effects of this vice ; so injurious to peace of mind, and so great 
a disturber of harmony among men. 

" Now for envy. 

" ' Wrath is cruel and anger is outrageous ; but who is able 
to stand before envy ? ' This is the strangest of all. Why do 
some fret at the prosperity of another ? Why do some grieve 
because another is making advancement in those pursuits which 
improve the mind ? Why do they thwart his plans and under- 
mine his reputation ? Why not rather admire and applaud ? 
The Poet shall answer. 

" ' Fools gaze and envy .' 

" But we must take the world as it is, and not as it should 
be. The fact, then, is that the great man, in our acceptation of 
the term, instead of receiving from all the reward of merit, is 
perpetually annoyed by envy. Are knowledge, virtue, truth, 
the objects of its desire ? Why, then, is it directed against our 
species alone ? Why not carried to Heaven ? Why do none 



168 

envy those blessed Spirits, the Angels ? Is not their greatness 
more desirable ? We do not form our ideas of an Angel as 
an orator, a statesman, a hero, but as a being of high moral 
perfection, as the most spotless of creation, and therefore privi- 
leged to dwell in the immediate presence and in the full enjoy- 
ment of the Infinite Himself. Hence it is evident, that Virtue 
alone is the true and living greatness. The cultivation of the 
moral faculties, only, can render man the friend and companion 
of God. It is this that best becomes immortal man, and the 
pursuit of it will enlighten the envious as to the difference 
between the objects of his desires on Earth and in Heaven. 

" The answer to our question, therefore, from the latitude 
which it affords, must be sought in the wide difference between 
true and what the world calls greatness ; for while the latter 
tends to give rise to pride, to envy, jealousy, and contempt, 
which, in their turn, serve to rob the mind of its tranquillity 
and break up the bonds of society, the former is calculated to 
unite all hearts and call forth the warmest admiration and 
praise, even from the most vicious and ignorant, unmingled 
with any unkind feeling. At the same time, it imparts to its 
possessor that happiness which none but he can obtain. 

" ' From purity of thought all pleasure springs.' 

" Robert Troup Paine." 
" Harvard University, September 13, 1848. 



169 



FORENSIC— AETICLE VII. 

" ' IS THERE LESS DANGER IN BELIEVING TOO MUCH OR TOO LITTLE ? ' 

" I purpose, first, to examine this subject in its moral bear- 
ings ; then in its influence upon the general happiness and pros- 
perity of man ; and afterwards to see how far our remarks upon 
the last head are borne out by history. 

" In treating of the morality of belief, we should first have 
a clear understanding of the nature of belief ; which must not 
be confounded with ' spiritual faith.' Can any one will to 
believe so and so ? A little, reflection must satisfy us that we 
cannot. How often has every one said, ' Well, I really wish I 
could believe that ! ' Can I, by willing, believe in ghosts and 
hobgoblins ? Evidently not. And, on the other hand, can any 
one refrain from such and such belief merely by willing to do 
so ? This is merely the other question reversed, and a moment's 
thought must tell us that we cannot. Can I, for example, have 
a doubt as to the existence of an Almighty Being, of my own 
existence, or of the revolution of the earth around the sun ? 
Can the dearest friends of Dr. Webster have a disbelief of his 
guilt by merely willing to do so ? Belief, then, so far as founded 



170 



in the nature of things, must necessarily be involuntary and 
irresistible. 

" Now, whatever is involuntary can have no morality, for 
the very essence of morality is free will. 'Then,' some will 
say, ' you think it makes no difference whether any one believes 
in atheism, polytheism, or Christian Deism ; whether the Chris- 
tian Deist believes that One God consists of Three Persons or 
One Person; and, in short, no difference, in a moral point of 
view, what any one believes ? ' I answer that he is morally 
responsible only for the manner in which he has availed himself 
of the means within his reach of convinciug himself upon any 
point, but not for the conviction to which he has been led after 
a thorough and honest examination of the grounds. This I 
believe to be the broad and liberal view of the question, such 
as is set forth by that great expounder of Christianity, St. Paul ; 
and, if it could generally prevail, it would serve to raise the 
standard of Religion in our Churches, by doing away with the 
interminable hostility, and I may perhaps say hatred, which 
exists among the different Sects, and its place would be supplied 
by a spirit partaking more of the Christian love and charity 
which characterized the meek and lowly Jesus. As we cannot, 
then, attach the idea of morality to belief, we of course cannot 
say that, in a moral point of view there is any danger in believ- 
ing much or little. 

" But, because belief does not partake of the nature of 
morality, and consequently, in our critical sense, can have no 



171 

influence upon our happiness hereafter, we must not imagine 
that it does not upon happiness and prosperity in this world. 
When we reflect, how many things, wholly unconnected with 
morality, have great influence in determining our present hap- 
piness, such as education, early rising, cleanliness, bodily exer- 
cise, property, friends, &c, is it at all surprising that belief 
should be one of the great elements in our happiness or misery, 
although it have nothing to do with morality ? It may, indeed, 
be thought very hard that our happiness should be so affected 
by that which is not under our control ; but it is nevertheless a 
fact, which we learn from observation of others and ourselves. 

" Granting, then, that belief has great influence upon the 
happiness and prosperity of man, we come to the question, 
which is attended with less danger, — believing too much or 
too little. But few will deny that the greater happiness and 
prosperity must consist in believing all the truth, and nothing 
but the truth ; though it may be asked now, as of old, ' "What 
is truth ? ' In the majority of subjects which are matters of 
belief, this is beyond our power to ascertain. Now, as 'too 
much' implies more than the truth, and 'too little' less than 
the truth, it is obvious that, if we cannot define what is truth, 
we shall be unable to define the meaning of 'too much' and 
' too little,' in its connection with truth. We therefore purpose, 
for convenience, in place of these expressions, in considering the 
question with regard to our happiness and prosperity, to use 
much and little. 



172 

" Is there, then, less danger to the happiness and prosperity 
of man, in believing much or little ? 

" This question is more easily and effectually answered by 
reference to facts than by speculation. Look at the world 
around us, and whom do we consider the happier ; those who 
assent to every thing, who are continually the dupes of the cun- 
ning, or those who, by reflection and correct judgment, believe 
only the things which their reason must acknowledge, or which 
are authenticated by what their judgment assures them to be 
perfectly reliable testimony ? Take Religion : what more 
deplorable object is there than one whose mind is filled by the 
rankest superstition, who sees demons in the air, hobgoblins, 
and the spirits of the departed, and to whom the midnight hour 
brings only horrid dreams and ghostly visions, instead of that 
quiet and repose, which even the skeptic can enjoy ? 

" But credulity is by no means confined to subjects of a reli- 
gious nature. How many have lost their property, their all, by 
some base impostor, whose words were as honey, but ' under 
whose tongue,' alas, too late they found there lurked ' the poison 
of the asp ' ! How many are constantly ushered into the unseen 
World through blind credulity in some nostrum or panacea ! 
They literally die ' as the fool dieth.' What multitudes are per- 
petually distracted and drawn away from the duties of life by 
belief in the grossest absurdities, such as the visions of Sweden- 
borg, Millerism, Mormonism, animal magnetism, phrenology, 
and what are called the ' mysterious knockings ' ! 



173 

" It is no doubt true that much belief is sometimes the 
source of the greatest happiness, froni being of that particular 
cast which enables one to live continually in a world of fancy 
and delight. But we have to do here, not with individual cases, 
but with general facts. Now, it is beyond all question that to 
one case of this description there are thousands in which much 
belief leads to a melancholic state of mind. Of this kind is the 
creed of those who believe there is but one road to Heaven ; 
that unless all think and act in just so precise a manner they 
will be eternally damned. This was not the teaching of the Sa- 
viour of men, and as that teaching accords with the moral sense. 

" It is said that credulity serves to beget confidence in 
others, or rather in the word and testimony of others ; but we 
should be silent here, so long as the business of the greater part 
of men is to cheat and impose upon their neighbors. A per- 
fectly honest man is, indeed, a rara avis ; but even he is liable 
to be mistaken in his testimony. 

" These remarks, I think, are most fully borne out by 
history, as well as by every day's experience. Compare the 
wretchedness which marked the middle ages, the reign of super- 
stition and Roman Catholic absurdities, with the better state of 
things brought about by the Lutheran reformation." 

The remaining portion of the manuscript is lost. It was 
rendered, a3 ascertained from his Classmate, Mr. Goodwin, May 
23d, 1850. 



174 



THESIS — ARTICLE VIII. 

" ' WHICH HAS THE GREATEST INFLUENCE IN THE FORMATION OF 
A MAN'S CHARACTER, CIRCUMSTANCES, ORGANIZATION, OR FREE- 
WILL ? ' 

" In treating this subject, the same difficulty presents itself 
as in all others of a metaphysical nature, namely, the liability 
of running too much on a favorite hobby, and thus taking a 
one-sided view. We are apt to regard man as entirely under 
the control of either circumstances, organization, or free-will ; 
thus forgetting that all three, at every period of his life, exert a 
powerful influence. Still, however, one of them has some ascen- 
dency over the others. 

" As it may not be readily understood from the sequel 
which side we have espoused, we state here that, in our opinion, 
organization is entitled to the pre-eminence. But our view of 
organization differs from its common acceptation. "We do not 
mean by it so much the brain, and those subdivisions of the 
organ which have been made by Phrenologists, as the spiritual 
part. "We believe there is ' a spiritual body,' as well as ' a natu- 
ral body,' and that the brain co-operates with the former in all 
its acts, and that it does so as a whole and at once. We 
believe, too, that the mind is the principal agent, and that it 



175 

lias a separate and more independent existence than the body, 
and, like the latter, that it has its own peculiar though spiritual 
organization. We shall therefore employ the word in its rela- 
tion to the soul, though we would prefer the word constitution, 
since the former is applied to the body. We think, also, that 
the mind varies in different classes of individuals, and more or 
less in each individual of the same class ; somewhat as ' all flesh 
is not the same flesh, but there is one kind of flesh of men, 
another flesh of beasts, another of fishes, and another of birds.' 
In like manner, mind is not exactly the same mind in all ; but 
there is one kind of mind of poets, another of philosophers, one 
of saints, and another of devils. And, although as the flesh of 
all men is one in its broad characteristics, yet as the flesh of 
every man is somewhat different from that of every other man, 
so, although the minds of all men are one in their general cast, 
yet the mind of every individual is different in many particulars 
from that of all others. The greatest peculiarities, and the 
greatest approximation, are seen among particular classes of 
men, and according to their classes ; such as poets, philosophers, 
mathematicians. But the general principle holds throughout. 
Thus, therefore, as God has given to every one ' a body as it 
hath pleased Him,' so to every one he hath given a mind ' as it 
pleaseth Him.' Indeed this truth lies at the foundation of the 
parable of the ten talents, and the declaration ' unto whom 
much is given of him shall be much required.' This truth, also, 
must be admitted before we can understand the beautiful com- 



176 



parison implied in the following verse : — ' Hath not the potter 
power over the clay of the same lump to make one vessel unto 
honor, and another unto dishonor ? ' Now, this peculiar ' organi- 
zation ' or constitution of every mind, both in respect to intel- 
lectual and moral capacities, is what, in our opinion, may be 
called the groundwork of that diversity of character which 
exists in our species. 

" Let us see if this be supported by facts. For convenience, 
I shall consider character first, in an intellectual point of view ; 
secondly, in a moral. Will the advocates of ' free-will,' or of 
' circumstances,' say that Shakspeare could have been a Newton 
had he willed it to the day of his death, or if he had been 
placed in circumstances similar to Newton ; or, vice versa ? 
But, to come nearer home : will either of those classes of philo- 
sophers tell us why one poor son of a Salisbury farmer should 
have become the most able and eloquent Statesman of his coun- 
try ? Was it because he willed it ? Have not hundreds of 
others willed the same ? Have not you and I willed it ? Indeed 
we have ; but it was like the will of Jeroboam, who could not 
' pull his hand in again ' Avhen he had ' put it forth from the 
altar.' Was it owing to ' circumstances ' ? Have not hundreds, 
nay thousands, been placed in the same circumstances ? But, 
to come to more ordinary cases. Enter the common school or 
the college ; take any number of the pupils, or the students in 
nearly the same circumstances, how various their endowments ! 
How various their caj>abilities for different branches of learning ! 



m 

Here is one, who, although under mechanical discipline, cannot 
be made to comprehend the simple rule of compound division. 
Here is another, whose sole delight is in mathematics. He com- 
prehends every thing connected with them with the greatest 
ease. Here, again, is another, fond of poetry and depicting 
imaginative scenes, and who, perhaps, 'lisped in rhyme.' We 
thus witness, at these early times, the germ of the astronomer, 
the moral philosopher, poet, lawyer, or divine. In all these 
cases, therefore, the ' organization ' or constitution of mind is dif- 
ferent ; thus making the groundwork of that pleasing variety of 
intellectual character which we everywhere behold. 

" That character is more influenced by organization or con- 
stitution of mind than by free-will or circumstances, is evident 
from the fact that, generally, a person takes after his parents ; 
sometimes the father, sometimes the mother, sometimes after 
both. The offspring is apt to be superior in those intellectual 
qualities in which his parents excel, and to possess the same 
tastes as they. This is perfectly analogous to other mysteries 
of generation. We shall not dwell upon the self-evident facts 
which have been now mentioned. It is only necessary to state 
them to render the proof complete. 

" As to man's moral character, this, also, as we have said, is 
more determined by constitution of mind than by circumstances 
or free-will. The proof may be of the same nature as that 
which we have alleged of his intellectual ; for when we consider 
how much one's morals are modified by his tastes, passions, and 



178 

strength of mind in resisting temptation, and that these are apt 
to be inherited, we see plainly that circumstances and free-will, 
although they, of course, act as modifiers, do not give the gene- 
ral cast to the moral character. Do we not find, very generally, 
that children bear a strong resemblance to their parents in their 
tastes and passions ? Are the parents of a lively turn of mind, 
so are they. Are they contemplative, so are they. Are they 
irascible, so are they ; amiable, so are they. 

" But it may be said that this is the effect of parental edu- 
cation. That such, however, is only partially true, may be 
shown by the fact that children bear the same mental resem- 
blance to their parents when born after the death of their 
father, or when from their mother ' untimely ript.' " 



The residue of the manuscript is lost. The date is ascer- 
tained to have been January 3, 1850. 



179 



FOKENSIC — AKTICLE IX.* 



PAP.TY IN POLITICS AND RELIGION.' 

" Such is the law of sociality in our nature, that we conceive 
a particular brotherly feeling for those who possess principles 
and characteristics similar to our own. This feeling is stronger 
in proportion as those are more particular, or the circle con- 
tracted. As there are certain features common to all men, so 
we find ourselves united by certain ties to the whole human 
family. This forms one great circle. Again, the tie becomes 
stronger among those who speak a common language and 
observe the same customs ; stronger still among those who have 
the same government, the same laws ; firmer yet is the bond 
as we descend to the more circumscribed, who have the same 
employment, the same sentiments, the same principles, the same 
feelings. 

" Thus we have circle within circle, and the connection 
among individuals becoming stronger and stronger as we go 
from the circumference to the centre, until finally the feelings 
become deeply engaged and a warm friendship is the result. 

* Written two months and a half before his death. 



180 

" We have now spoken of man's social being. But let us 
ask, are there not laws which regulate its welfare as well as that 
of his animal, intellectual, and moral being ? Has it not dis- 
eases and deformities as well as iJwy ? May not the vigor and 
energies of manhood, which were designed for the service of 
the world, for making it better and happier, be wasted in licen- 
tiousness, or fall a victim to grim dyspepsia, brought on by 
gluttony or inactivity \ And are not the vigor and energies of 
man's social being, which were intended for his own and the 
happiness of others, thus perverted from their gracious purpose, 
and rendered the cause of wretchedness, unutterable misery ? 

" Now, in no form are such evils worse than those which 
arise from exclusion. What more universal, and at the same 
time detestable, than this spirit ! It is proper, as we have said, 
that a peculiar tie should subsist between those who hold the 
same sentiments ; but to make those sentiments the standard in 
cases where they have no concern, is manifest folly. Take an 
instance in politics, for illustration. I am a whig. I believe 
the best interests of the country will be promoted by carrying 
out whig principles and whig measures. Suppose, then, that I 
am to vote for the President of the United States, for a Senator, 
or a member of the House. Very well. Then as these are 
they in whose hands is the making and carrying out of public 
measures, this is palpably a case in which my political principles 
are concerned, and it is proper, it is natural, and, perhaps, it is 
my duty to vote according to them. 



181 

" But suppose I am a trustee of a college, aud an election 
for a President or a Professor of the College is to take place. * 
Here the question is not whether the candidate be a whig. It 
is plainly, • — is he one who will do honor to the College, a man 
of learning, of reputation, of ability, one who will discharge 
the duties of the office satisfactorily ? To cast my vote, then, 
upon political principles, would be acting from narrow-minded- 
ness, from seeing only one principle applicable to every thing. 

" The rule of exclusion carried thus far is absurd, hateful. 
But what shall be said of its operation as we see it every day 
around us ? What has politics to do with my employing or 
associating with another ? The question in choosing a compan- 
ion, a friend, is not whether he be a whig ; but is he a man of 
worth, of good sense, of sociability, in short, is he an agreeable 
man? In hiring a servant, or a hand in a factory, the same 
principle applies. Is he industrious, honest, qualified for the 
place ? To act in those cases according to political principles 
would be virtually denying the grand sentiment — difference of 
opinion is honorable. It would be a virtual censure upon all 
those who differ from me on one subject, and denouncing them 
as unworthy of my regard. 

* This was evidently suggested by the pendency of an election of a Professor of 
History, and in which the Students of the University took a lively interest at the time 
when this Forensic was written. The election devolved especially upon the higher 
branches of the Legislature of Massachusetts ; and Mr. Bowen, the candidate, who 
had performed the functions of the chair for some time, was supposed to have been 
set aside from political feeling. 



182 

" But it may be asked — ' supposing there are two persons 
equal in all these respects, should you not choose the one who 
is of the same politics with yourself ? ' "We answer that, in 
ninety-nine cases of a hundred, it will be found, on stricter 
examination, one is better qualified than the other. In the 
hundredth case it were better to adopt the boyish expedient of 
deciding the choice by lot, than resort to the more absurd and 
dangerous standard of politics, which certainly can have no 
natural bearing upon the case in hand. 

" But the principle of exclusion is not confined to individu- 
als, or individual acts. K it ceased here, its operation would 
be no more than we might expect ; for surely it is not at all 
surprising that we find individuals who are narrow-minded, 
bigoted, conceited. But to find it actuating the ruling party 
of a great nation is truly disgusting. When we see the officers 
of government, because they have been elected according to a 
political standard, removing from office postmasters, custom- 
house clerks, judges, and physicians, who have no more to do 
with politics than every other citizen ; when we see them turn- 
ing them out merely because they do not belong to then- party, 
and substituting others of their political faith, and that, too, 
without any reference to their qualifications, we begin to des- 
pair of the Republic, and to foresee a monarchy rising upon its 
ruins. 

" But what are the obvious effects of the kind of exclusion 
we have been considering ? Are they not evil in whatever 



183 

light we view them ? Does it not estrange the affections, the 
feelings of one part of the community from those of the other ! 
Does it not kindle a spirit but little different in its nature and 
violence from that of civil war ! Does it not serve to harrow 
up the very worst passions of the human breast ! Let any 
rational man look candidly at this, and he must be convinced 
that our expressions are borne out by sad reality. 

" We come now to speak of exclusion in Religion. 

" Here we have it extending not only to different religions, 
but molesting different sects of the same religion, even that of 
the Holy Scriptures. 

" "We shall consider this division of our subject under two 
heads : exclusion in belief, exclusion on account of belief. By 
the former we mean the principle by which a person of one 
belief condemns or denounces as heretics all who differ from 
him ; by the latter, the principle by which any one is led to 
withhold his favor, his services, or his friendship, from all who 
are not of his party in religion. 

" Suppose me an Episcopalian. Suppose me, as I am, to be 
a sincere believer in the peculiar tenets of the Church. Sup- 
pose, also, that I have arrived at this belief from reflection, from 
careful examination of Scripture. Am I, therefore, because I 
believe the doctrines of that Church to be the true ones, — am 
I for that reason to denounce another who has, by the same re- 
flection and equally diligent searching the Scriptures, come to 
an equally sincere belief that the doctrines of another sect ap- 



184 



proacli more nearly to the true doctrines ? Am I, on this ac- 
count, to exclude him from the number of the faithful and the 
good ? Has he not a soul as well as I ? May not I be mis- 
taken as well as he ? 

" But, although one must be mistaken, may not both be 
equally good, equally religious, or may not the one who is cor- 
rect in his belief be much less devotional and religious ; in 
short, may he not be much more sinful ? To deny this is to 
assert that belief has a moral character. Belief is involuntary. 
No one can believe a thing by wishing or willing to do it. He 
believes according to the manner in which he views the facts or 
the evidence before him. The mind is carried unconsciously 
along by the arguments and proof presented to it ; and, as 
there are two sides to every argument, it will be overcome by 
the one which appears to have the greater force. For instance, 
such a combination of facts might be presented to me as to con- 
vince me that some near relative had committed murder, which 
certainly would be the last thing which I should wish to believe. 

" The same is the nature of belief in matters of Religion. 
Man is, indeed, responsible for the use he makes of means 
within his reach for ascertaining what is the time belief, and for 
the correspondence of his conduct to his own belief. But this 
is far different from condemning a man, who has laid his mind 
open to argument on both sides, for the manner in which his 
mind is affected by them. To do this is to condemn him for 
what is not under his control. 



185 

" But, time will not permit me to carry the subject farther. 
How illiberal, how narrow-minded, how conceited, how unchris- 
tian, to denounce the Religion, the goodness of another, when 
he differs sincerely from you, and according to his means of in- 
formation ! How delightful, on the other hand, to see in those 
of other sects, nay, even in the sincere Pagan, fellow-travellers 
to the Land of Bliss ! * And, what we have now said seems to 
be not only the dictate of reason, of what we know of the 
Beneficence of the Creator, of the intrinsic nature of the Atone- 
ment, but what is inculcated by the Saviour of men, and so elo- 
quently expounded and illustrated in the teachings and conduct 
of St. Paul. 

" "We will now consider the second part of this division of 
our subject — exclusion on account of belief. 



* The eminent Dr. Blah - says, in his Discourse upon the General Judgment, that, 
— "Powerful is the Atonement of our blessed Kedeemer to procure pardon for the 
greatest sinner, who has been penitent. We have all reason to believe, that amidst 
the numberless infirmities which attend humanity, what the Great Judge will chiefly 
regard is the habitual, prevailing turn of our heart and life ; how far we have been 
actuated by a sincere desire to do our duty. This we know for certain, that all the 
measures of this judgment shall be conducted with the most perfect equity. l God is 
not extreme to mark iniquity ; for He knows our frame and remembers we are dust.' 
He will not exact from any one what he hath never given him. He will judge him 
according to the degree of light that was afforded him, according to the means of 
knowledge and improvement that were put into his hands. Hence, many a virtuous 
Heathen shall be preferred before many mere professors of Christian faith. ' They 
shall come from the east and the west, the north and, the south, and sit down in the 
kingdom of God, when the children of the kingdom are cast oat."' — [The Parents.] 

24 



186 

" It must be evident that many remarks made in connection 
with politics are applicable liere, and therefore need not be 
repeated. We turn, therefore, more particularly to Religion. 

" Now, however uuphilosophical, however absurd it may be 
to connect Religion with questions to which it is not at all 
related in nature, yet what more prevalent than the spirit of 
exclusion on account of religious belief ! Sectarianism is made 
to obtrude itself into every sphere. In some countries it is 
upheld by law, governs the appointment of every public officer, 
and forces itself into public measures. This is seen in Christian 
governments. But, in Turkey and China it has, until recently, 
amounted to even denying toleration to every other belief than 
the established faith. These, it is true, are uncivilized lands, 
and perhaps it is not surprising that they should be ruled by 
principles appropriate to them. Still it may be asked, even 
upon this question, whether they have fulfilled ' the law written 
in their hearts,' whether ' their thoughts, meanwhile, accuse or 
excuse them.' We shall say nothing of Roman Catholic Europe, 
nothing of the besom which deluged the Protestant Churches ; 
but that refined and enlightened England should remain intol- 
erant is sickening to the heart of philanthropy. When we find 
her requiring of all officers, her sovereign, her generals, her 
admirals, her judges, her surgeons, and even the graduates of 
her colleges, a signature of the thirty-nine articles, we cannot 
but think there is still much room for improvement. 

" In our country, thank Heaven, a great march has been 



187 

made. But, although, sectarianism does not receive the public 
cognizance, this intolerant spirit is at work privately. Each 
sect is striving to gain an ascendency. "We see it carried, in an 
alarming manner, into our very Colleges. It infuses itself into 
the election of Presidents and Professors, and peculiarities in 
Religious belief are made to compensate for acknowledged infe- 
riority. Students, even, would forego the advantages of educa- 
tion rather than resort to a College whose officers are of a differ- 
ent religious creed from themselves. But what has a College to 
do with sectarianism ? No more than a gymnasium has with a 
College. Their proper duty is to inculcate the great principles 
of Christianity in the one case, and habitual exercise in the 
other. The details belong to the Church, or to the gymnasium. 
The former is the school of man's religious powers, the latter 
his physical, and the College his intellectual. "We go to one, or 
the closet, to pray, to another to exercise, to another to learn. 

" But the feeling of which we are speaking infects, also, the 
domestic circle ; separates chief friends, makes bitter foes, often- 
times deluges the Earth with blood, kindles a fire at the Altar, 
and all this for what is supposed to be — Religion. No wonder, 
then, that infidels scoff, when they find the Church which is 
called by the Name of Him Whom it gives forth to have been 
all gentleness and meekness — when they find this same Church 
so perverted as to have been the cause of half (we think we do 
not exaggerate) the wars, feuds, and quarrels which have afflict- 
ed mankind. Upon this disposition of man was founded the 



188 

fearful declaration that He 'came not to send peace but the 

sword.' 

" Robert Troup Paine. 

" Harvard University, December 19, 1850." 



THESIS — ARTICLE X. 



AND THE MILD ALLURING VIRTUES IN PUBLIC TEACHERS OF RELI- 
GION.' 

" In considering this subject, we should bear in mind that, 
however untrue it may be at the present day and at some 
former periods, there have been times when virtue in public 
Teachers could accomplish nothing unless it had been austere 
and forbidding. 

" The comparative influence, for good or for evil, of mil d 
and of austere virtues, has depended upon the state of society. 
During the dark ages the Romish Church, by assuming the 
appearance of stern morality, held an unlimited sway over the 
minds of the human race, as far as Christianity had reached. 
By appearing to suppress the passions natural to man, and 
abstaining from enjoyments, the priests and monks were looked 
upon by the ignorant and superstitious as exalted above the 
mass of mankind, and approaching the character of that Being 



189 

Who was regarded only with, dread, and as an embodiment of 
all that is cold and cheerless. 

" This was, of course," well understood by the artful priests, 
who, although in private they indulged in lewdness and the 
most sensual enjoyments, openly pretended that the least grati- 
fication of natural propensities, or any participation in the plea- 
sures of the world, was incompatible with the holiness of their 
office. In the mean time, it was a part of the system to debar 
the people from all means of instruction, especially religious 
(except that corrupted religion taught by themselves), lest they 
should see the folly of those pretended and unnatural restraints, 
and how unnecessary to the purest virtue. 

" Somewhat similar was the case with the ancient Jews. 
Their priests either were or pretended to be of the strictest and 
most austere virtues. This was absolutely necessary to preserve 
even the slightest reverence for Religion. Knowledge, it is 
true, was not now restrained. But it was in its infancy ; and 
this condition of the Jews required not only a severity of 
morals in the priesthood, but often the interposition of Heaven. 
The ignorant, too, have generally gloomy conceptions of the 
Divine Being ; and, serving Him more from fear than love, they 
naturally judge of Religion by the standard of every thing 
which is austere and forbidding. 

" There is much of this to be seen in Romanism even now. 
Nay, is not the light of knowledge a terror to the Romish 
Church ? Are not its followers held in ignorance for the pre- 



190 

servation of its power ; and does not this condition render the 
old austerity of affected manners still necessary to its stern and 
exclusive Religion ? Their views both of God and of this life 
are so dreary, they judge, or affect to judge a man to be virtuous 
only so far as he is austere and forbidding. And this will seem 
natural enough when we consider how different it is with those 
whose ' God is Love,' and whose minds have been expanded by 
the genial rays of the sun of education ; for, wherever they 
turn their eyes, to the rolling spheres, the trembling leaf, or 
the humble flower, they behold some beneficent Design, some- 
thing calculated to promote the comfort and happiness of man- 
kind while here on Earth. They see that He, Who planted the 
corn to be food for man, planted the grape, also, to make glad 
his heart. 

" Another reason for the necessity of an appearance of aus- 
terity and restraint in public teachers of Religion among igno- 
rant people, or those of inferior minds, is, that they are unable 
to distinguish between use and abuse, and are prone to run 
from the one to the other. If priests were to appear to indulge 
at all in wine, it would be made an excuse for debauchery and 
drunkenness by the ignorant, who judge moderation and excess 
by the same standard. Or, if they do not, they think they 
have a right to imitate, at least, the moderation of their spirit- 
ual advisers, and, in so doing, they soon leap over the golden 
mean and give themselves up to rioting. This is only an exam- 
ple of the many pleasures of life ; and wherever, therefore, the 



191 

people are ignorant, or of inferior education, the public teachers 
of Religion are obliged to be austere and forbidding to main- 
tain a proper influence. It is then necessary to ' take heed lest 
by any means this liberty become a stunibling-block to them 
that are weak. For if any man see them which have knowledge 
sit at meat in the idol's temple, shall not the conscience of him 
which is weak be emboldened to eat those things which are 
offered to idols ? ' Hence we see the truth of the principle 
with which we started, that the comparative influence of mild 
and of austere virtues depends upon the state of society ; and 
according to its condition so must they be regulated among 
those who lead the multitude. 

" What has now been said of the enjoyments of life, and of 
their indulgences and restraints, is manifestly of wide applica- 
tion, though it may be very difficult to adapt their limits to 
existing circumstances. But, in the midst of these difficulties 
there is a Light in the Precepts and Examples of the Saviour of 
man, which is suited to every condition of society, and which 
will safely guide the whole human race over the rugged paths 
of life, and conduct them to a better Inheritance. 

" Robert Troup Paine. 

" Harvard University, October 25, 1849." 



192 



THESIS — ARTICLE XI. 

" 'A MEETING BETWEEN LUTHER AND CALVIN.' 

" As our subject obliges us to bring these individual? 
together, we shall not stop to inquire whether we are violating 
chronology in making them cotemporaries, but proceed at once 
with our discussion, which we shall divide into two parts. 

"PAET FIRST. 

" Scene at Jerusalem — Luther ami Fenelon meet by chance at 
(lie Holy Sepulchre. 

" Fenelon, having for a while gazed upon the Sepulchre in 
silent meditation, at last addresses Luther. 



" Fenelon. 

" ' Friend, how holy is this place ! Behold where our Lord 
hath lain ! How awful, yet how comforting the thought that 
He, "Who was once here bound by the fetters of death, now 
reigns on High, and is worshipped by the Church militant as 
the first born from the dead.' 



193 



" Luther. 
" ' Indeed, upon such a subject we are lost in thought ! ' 

" Fenelon. 

" ' How devoted, then, should we be to the Religion which 
He has established ! How attached to the Church which He 
has founded ! For that Church we should be willing to lay- 
down our lives ; for through her alone can we hope to enter 
Paradise. But, alas ! there has arisen a heretic by the name of 
Luther who has drawn away many after him. He denies the 
authority not only of her reverend priests, but also of her infal- 
lible head, the vicegerent of Him Whom this place recalls to 
our minds. He indulges in the vain hope of uprooting the 
Holy Church, and thereby has incurred her severest anathemas, 
together with the displeasure of the immaculate Virgin and 
the holy Angels. He will find it '■'hard to kick against the 
pricks? 

" Luther. 

" ' Friend, softly ; let's have no more of those high sounding 
expressions.' 

" Fenelon. 
" ' Art thou one of Luther's disciples ? ' 



194 

" Luther. 

" ' Aye, not only one of Ms disciples, but Luther ipsissi- 
mus. 1 

" Fenelon. 
" ' Luther ipsissimus ! ' 

" Luther. 
" ' It is I, indeed. Be not afraid ! ' 

" Fenelon. 

" {Aside.) ' Oh Heaven ! protect thy servant ; defend thy 
Church ! {To Jjiithet:') Although we can never unite in opin- 
ion so long as thou art an enemy to the Church of God, we can 
unite as brethren. I feel it my duty, as a priest of the Holy 
Church, to exhort you to renounce your evil ways, to become 
again one of her children, so that after you shall have ended 
this life, her prayers and intercessions, united with those of the 
saints and the holy Virgin, may be a safe transport to the 
regions of everlasting bliss.' 

" Luther. 

" ' A priest, say you ! I should have known it from your 
language and apparel. But pray, your name ? ' 



195 

" Fenelon. 
" ' My name is Fenelon.' 

" LtTTHEK. 

" ' A great name that ! But, Sir, God forbid that I should 
rely on any thing save a lively faith in Jesus Christ. So, away 
with all useless ceremonies, all popes and virgins and priests, 
interposing "barriers between my soul and its Saviour. That 
soul is noblest which knows no superior but its God, and calls 
the Angels brethren. From this hollow Sepulchre a gentle 
voice whispers in my ear — ' He that hath the Son hath life.' 

" Fejteloet. 

" ' I am to understand, then, that you refuse to acknowledge 
not only the authority of the infallible Pope, and the other 
high officers of the Church, but also of the Virgin, and the holy 

saints and Angels ? ' 

" LtJTHEE. 

" ' Aye, Sir. I don't believe that sins should first be con- 
fessed to the Pope, and that the Pope should then confess them 
to the saints, the saints to the Virgin, and the Virgin to her 
Son. This is second-hand work. I believe that all are equal in 
the sight of God ; that all have an equal access to His throne ; 



196 

that all will be rewarded according to their merits ; that in the 
World to come the humble cottager will outshine many a so- 
called infallible Pope.' 

" Fenelon. 
" ' Haughty pride ! ' 

" Luther. 

" ' Noble pride ! ' ■ 

" Fenelon. 

" ' You discard, also, all the sacred ceremonies of the 
Church ! ' 

" Luther. 

" ' All ! excepting those which have received the sauction of 
our Blessed Lord, baptism and the Lord's Supper. But even 
then I don't believe in holy cannibalism.' 

" Fenelon. 
" ' Holy cannibalism ! Sir, I don't understand you.' 

" Luther. 
" ' I mean transubstantiation.' 

" Fenelojst. 
" ' Don't believe in transubstantiation ! ! Heavens, how 



197 

reprobate ! Is it not expressly said, this is my body, and of the 
wine, this is my blood ? ' 

" Luther. 

" ' True ; but common sense shows that these passages can- 
not be taken literally. Of course you do not think that the 
Body of our Lord could injure any one. So, the next time you 
make your wafers, put in the red sulphuret of arsenic, and you 
can thus find out whether the substance undergoes any change. 
That the passages of which you speak are purely figurative is 
evident from what our Saviour says in immediate connection 
with them : " But I say unto you, I will not drink henceforth, of 
the fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new with 
you in my Father '<$■ kingdom? Now, if you receive one part in 
a literal sense, must you not also the other ? ' (See page 42.) 

" Eenelob - . 

" ' But, Sir, whatever other doctrines and ceremonies you 
may discard, you surely believe in masses for the dead, and the 
sale of indulgences ? ' 

" Luther. 

" ' I believe them both to be artful contrivances to procure 
for the Pope and other officers of the Church greater awe and 
reverence from the laity, and to make the dupes feel greater 



198 



dependence upon those who profess to be their superiors in 
holiness ; and I believe the sale of indulgences to have been 
invented especially for the purpose of replenishing the treasury. 
At any rate, it is well known that the present Pope applies it to 
that use, as the revenues of the Church were exhausted by his 
predecessors, Alexander Sixth and Julius Second, since in no 
other way is he able to defray the expense in which his love of 
splendor, and his passion for pleasure, are continually involving 
him. He imposes upon the multitude by telling them that the 
good works of the saints, over and above those which were 
necessary for their justification, together with the infinite merits 
of Jesus Christ, are locked up in one common treasury ; that 
the keys were delivered to St. Peter, and have descended to his 
successors the Popes, who can open it at pleasure ; and, by 
transferring a portion of that superabundance, upon the pay- 
ment of a certain sum of money, can convey to the purchaser 
the pardon of his own sins and of any one in whose behalf he 
is interested. There are various agents appointed for retailing 
these benefits. I knew one in Saxony by the name of Tetzel, 
whose seeming benevolence has procured for him among many 
the familiar name of Tetty. How ludicrous it is to hear some 
ignorant dupe (who has repaired to his office at the crowing of 
the cock, that he may be the first on hand), how ludicrous, I 
say, to hear him exclaim, — 'Well, Tetty, what prices does sali- 
vation bring in the market this morning ? ' — ' Salvation, you 
mean,' replies Tetzel. — ' Oh ! yes, I'll remember next time. 



199 

How do you sell it ? I want to get some, for niy father's a fry- 
ing.' — 'Twelve pence a pound,' answers the ever-ready and 
cunning Tetzel, while a beam of joy flashes in his eye with the 
expectation of adding that sum to the contents of his purse. — 
' How much shall I need ? ' says the other. ' They tell me it is 
powerful.' — 'A pound will be quite sufficient,' is the answer. — 
' Well, come, give us a pound ; but first, do you use avoirdupois 
or troy weight ? ' — ' Avoirdupois ; good sixteen ounces to the 
pound, besides applying it myself to your father's benefit.' — 
'Well said; here's the money.' (Tetzel counts?) — 'Here are 
but eleven pence happeny. Two farthings wanting, Sir.' — 
' Oh ! Dear ! Dear ! my poor father ! What shall I do ? I 
have no more money, and I have no coat, or I would give you 
that.' ■ — ■ ' Give me your pantaloons ; I can easily sell them, and 
will return you any balance that may remain. You will have 
then performed a glorious action.' — ' Here they are, Sir ' ; — 
whereupon, Tetzel gives him a paper certifying that his father 
is released from purgatory, and that a forgiveness of his own 
sins is thrown into the bargain. 

" ' You smile, Sir ; as I should expect from one of your con- 
science and renown. For my part, I scarcely know whether to 
laugh or to weep over such actions.' 

" Fenelon. 

"'Though Tetzel, and some of his associates are acknow- 
ledged by most to have behaved in a shameful and indecent 



200 

manner, not only by magnifying the benefit of these indul- 
gences, and by spending in gaming and drunkenness the sums 
which had been piously bestowed in the hope of obtaining eter- 
nal happiness ; still, this will not at all go to disprove that the 
Popes have authority not only to remit sins during life, but also 
by their prayers to procure a release from purgatory for any 
one whose sins have not been forgiven before the hour of 
death ; and surely they should receive a small compensation for 
such services. Do we not read, — " Whosesoever sins ye remit, 
they are remitted, and whosesoever sins ye retain, they are re- 
tained? And again, in another place, — "By which, also, he 
went and preaclied unto the spirits in prison? " 

" Luther. 

" ' True. But we must remember that the former of these 
passages was addressed to a chosen few, to whom our Saviour 
gave supernatural power. While they were endowed with this 
spiritual authority they were able to give evidence of their 
power, by raising the dead, healing the sick, cleansing the 
lepers, and opening the eyes of the blind. But no Pope has 
ever been able to perform a miracle. Is it not then absurd to 
suppose that they are clothed with extraordinary power if they 
can give no manifestation of it ? Well may we exclaim — 
" Who is this that forgiveth sins also ? " — As to the second of 
those passages which you have brought up as a proof that the 
wicked can be saved after death, whatever other meaning it 



201 

may have, it cannot bear this, as the whole tenor of Scripture 
goes to show that, as death leaves us Judgment finds us ; that 
after death a great gulf is fixed between the good and the bad, 
which none can pass.' 

" Fenelon. 

" ' Strange doctrines indeed ; heretical innovations ! But I 
pray God that He may cause you to see the error of your opin- 
ions, which only tend to the subversion of all order in the 
Church, and serve to bring down upon you its severest censure.' 

" Luther. 

" ' Were I not convinced that I am sustained by truth and 
Religion, I should immediately recant all that I have said, and 
become as strong an advocate of the papal Church as I have 
been an opposer ; but, being so, God forbid that I should yield 
a hair. "JVb man having put his hand to the plough, and looking 
back, is fit fior the kingdom of God." ' 

" Fenelon. 

" ' It would be a gratification to me to prolong this conver- 
sation, and to reason with you more at length concerning the 
doctrines upon which we have touched, and to become acquaint- 
ed with your views upon many others ; but time fails me. The 
sun is already near the zenith and I must away, as my company 



202 

depart to-day. How, long, Sir, shall you remain in these quar- 
ters ? ' 

" LuTHER. 

" ' I expect four or five days ; so that I shall have an oppor- 
tunity to visit this Holy place on the Lord's Day. Hail thou 
morn which saw the Saviour rise, and rise then, my soul, to 
meet Him in the sky ! ' 

" Fenelon. 

" ' "Well may a visit to this tomb awake hallowed thoughts ! 
I was here last Sabbath, and never did I exclaim with half the 
zest, " Oh Grave ! where is thy victory ! " (Making a final gaze 
upon the Sepulchre, and then taking Luther by the hand) 
' Well, Sir, it is time for my departure ; but I hope that this 
meeting may be renewed at some future day, when I may hear 
more of your opinions. Till then adieu.' 

" LuTHER. 

" ' Adieu ! Adieu ! ' 



" We had intended to have added another Part, but we 

have arrived at our limits. 

" Robert Troup Paine. 

" Harvard University, May 26, 1849." 



203 



THESIS— AETICLE XII. 

" ' SELF-INFLICTED BODILY TORMENTS, AS MORAL PREVENTIVES OR 

REMEDIES.' 

" We wish it to be clearly understood, that, by the following 
observations we merely express our sentiments upon the ques- 
tion, without any desire to censure any religious sect ; at least 
so far as there may be reason to confide in their sincerity. We 
certainly think that nothing is more unkind, more unworthy a 
man and a Christian, than the censoriousness which is often 
betrayed on account of differences in religious opinions. 

" Coming to our subject ; as we understand by a moral 
remedy something which tends to produce sincere repentance, 
our mquiry will be, whether self-inflicted bodily torments are 
calculated to prevent future immorality, or to produce sincere 
repentance for that which is past. We shall, however, consider 
these two effects as similar, or rather, that the one follows upon 
the other ; for we think that sincere repentance of any sin is 
generally followed by an abandonment of that sin. 

" Among barbarous nations a sense of wrong is often observ- 
ed to be accompanied by some outward demonstration of sorrow. 
This looks like the working of a ' law written in their hearts.' 
These signs of contrition consist frequently in cutting and lace- 



204 

rating the flesh, pulling out the hah 1 , and various other bodily 
torments. They are commonly prompted by a superstitious 
belief that such inflictions serve to drive away an evil spirit 
that has haunted and instigated them to commit the wrong for 
which they suppose themselves atoning, as well, also, to appease 
the good spirit which they have offended. Indeed, this mode 
of atonement is carried even to a voluntary death among gross 
idolaters, as well known of the Hindoos in throwing themselves 
under the car of Jugernaut. 

" The question now arises, — do these self-inflicted punish- 
ments have any tendency towards repentance and improve- 
ment 2 

" The universal principle of conviction must operate more or 
less here as in other cases. The savage believes that his god 
can be appeased by self-inflicted tortures, and by these only, and 
this belief must certainly have a tendency to improve him. 
But it is the belief, the faith, not the torture, which does the 
salutary work. 

" But such practices are not confined to savages and idola- 
ters. They have been common among Christians ever since the 
establishment of their Religion, although modified in their 
severity ; especially since the dark ages. Their greatest rigor, 
perhaps, is to be seen in the barefooted monks, and those who 
girdle and beat themselves with ropes. But they consist prin- 
cipally at this day in fasting and such like privations. Here, 
then, we discern some of the great blessings of knowledge and 



205 

Christianity. In proportion as man becomes free from supersti- 
tion, and convinced of the Spirituality of the Being Whom he 
adores, he divests his worship of those useless, untoward cere- 
monies with which it was before encumbered. The God of the 
Christian is a God "Who searcheth the inmost recesses of the 
heart ; and as He is a Spirit He requires that He should be 
worshipped ' in spirit and in truth.' It was early said, and again 
repeated by our Saviour, that God ' desired mercy and not sacri- 
fice, and the knowledge of God more than burnt-offerings.' He 
has even given us a model of Prayer, which is most remarkable 
for its brevity and indefiniteness. And Why ? Because ' He 
knoweth what things we have need of before we ask Him.' 

" Although in the Christian self-inflicted privations are often 
accompanied by sincere repentance, we regard them as perfectly 
distinct ; for, although the latter give rise to the former, it is 
the latter alone which is acceptable, and would be as perfect 
without the former. The one is spiritual, the other is connected 
with the body. This appears to be the essence of Christianity. 
It is infused into all its precepts, is exactly what enlightened 
reason approves, and what the true Christian knows. 

" Go, sinner ; offer unto God thanksgiving and the sacrifice 
of contrition, 'rend your heart and not your garments,' and 
with a light heart enjoy His temporal as well as His spiritual 
bounties. In no way do we look upon self-inflicted torments as 
a moral remedy, for they form no part of repentance, nor have 
they any tendency towards it. When they are apparently con- 



206 

ducive to improvement, the benefit is owing to fear or to belief. 
They have no effect upon that inward, spiritual improvement 
which is ' the fruit of perfect love which casteth out fear.' 

"Postscript. — We have said that 'we shall consider these 
two effects as similar ; or rather, that the one follows upon the 
other.' That is to say ; improvement and repentance go to- 
gether. But, upon farther consideration we see that, although 
the latter is always accompanied by the former, yet the former 
may often take place without the latter." 

" Kobert Troup Paine. 

" Harvard University, May 5, 1849." 



THESIS — AETICLE XIII. 

" 'AN EARLY EMIGRANT TO NEW ENGLAND ANTICIPATING THE FUTURE 
RELATIONS OF THIS COUNTRY TO OTHERS.' 

" As the opinions, hopes, and anticipations of an individual 
can be best learned from his conversation, we will fancy our- 
selves listening to the discourse of a family of early emigrants 
as they sit around the fire on a cold winter's eve. Let the 
family consist of a husband, wife, and two sons, Thomas and 
William ; the one arrived at the age of manhood, and the other 
at twelve years. 



207 



" William. 



" ' Oh Pa ! how dreary ! Just hear the wind howl ! How 
gloomy these oak forests, filled with "bears and wolves ! I trem- 
ble whenever night comes on. How I wish I was in England, 
where I had a good warm house ; but here there is nothing but 
a miserable cabin ! 

"The Father. 

" ' My child, do not complain in this manner. It is natural, 
indeed, that one of your age should consider merely the out- 
ward comforts of life ; but it is different with your Father. He 
left England because the hand of persecution pressed hard upon 
him. It should be your happiness that this change has con- 
duced to mine. Remember that He, Who guided the descend- 
ants of Jacob for forty years in the wilderness, can also pro- 
tect us.' 

" Thomas. 

" ' While you and William have been conversing I have 
been considering the present condition of this vast wilder- 
ness, and looking into futurity. I have been thinking of the 
world as it was after the Deluge, and how much we seem to be 
like that, and how probable it is that the same changes will 
happen here that so rapidly overspread the other hemisphere. 
May we not suppose that they will make far greater progress ; 
for this would seem to follow from our greater amount of know- 



208 

ledge. Our growth must be slow aud discouraging, at first ; 
but certainly less so than the ruder states of mankind. But, 
when we shall have got a certain amount of population by our 
own natural increase, the history of the past will tell us what 
we shall be in four or five centuries hence. For my part, in 
looking forward to such a period, I fancy the wilderness over- 
come, cities and palaces in the place of trees, the ploughshare 
and pruning-knife every where at work, and the Ocean covered 
by our fleets. I see a mighty nation, many hundred millions 
in the few centuries I have named, taking the place of these 
wandering savages, and carrying knowledge and Christianity to 
all parts of the Globe. Think of what was done during the 
four hundred years following the Flood, and how Christianity 
triumphed in the same time over the greatest imaginable obsta- 
cles, and that, too, by its own peaceable means.' 



" The Mother. 

" ' How ridiculous, Thomas ! Your education should keep 
you from being fanciful. You should rather think each night 
how we shall keep our souls and bodies together for another 
day.' 






" The Fathee. 



" ' No, my dear ; these thoughts naturally occur to the mind 
at all times, but especially at such a crisis as this, when a coun- 



209 

try that has been trodden for ages by none but the savage is 
visited for the first time by civilized man.' 

" Thomas. 

" ' Well, Father ; I should like to know what you think this 
country is destined to become, and what rank it will hold in 
respect to others ? ' 

" William. 
" ' Yes, Pa ; I should like to hear too.' 

" The Fathee. 

" ' Thomas is right. It is from the past alone that we can 
form any conjectures as to the future.' 

" Thomas. 
" ' I was sure that I was right.' 

" The Father. 

" ' Yes, Thomas ; we must have recourse to history, and 
consider the rise and progress of other nations. Your examples 
are plain and satisfactory. But let us come down to later times, 
where we may consult profane as well as Sacred records. We 
have all of us read of the mighty Empires of Greece and Eome, 
which, at different times, made the world tremble at their 



210 

power. Go back, and see the germ of all this might. There 
we find Cecrops, Cadmus, and Lelex, with a handful of men 
founding those States which have commanded the respect of 
ages, as the seat of learning and the arts, and which were for 
ages the terror of distant nations. They, also, were obliged to 
create the knowledge which is delivered into our hands.' 

" Thomas. 

" ' There, Mother ; you see there was nothing fanciful in 
my conjectures. You remember, too, how gradual the change 
was from the beginning of letters till their wonderful influence 
upon society. And yet the writings of Homer show us that the 
time was not long. When those leaders, of whom Father spoke, 
first brought colonies into Greece, the inhabitants, as in our 
wilderness, were few, savage in their manners, wandering in 
their mode of life. We see the Colonies beginning improve- 
ments, getting society into a more organized state, cultivating 
the ground, and navigating the sea. Their manners, too, were 
more or less adopted by the savage people around them ; but 
the Colonies always took care to keep them in subjection. 
And so I conclude it will be with us and our savage neighbors. 
After a while, we find them giving their attention to war, leav- 
ing the plough for the sword, from believing this to be a surer 
road to wealth. In these, and similar ways, having overcome 
the primary inhabitants, they looked upon themselves as the 
rightful lords of the land. This is the work, for the most part, 



211 

of enlightened mind, and it seems destined to carry every thing 
before it till the whole earth shall be as densely inhabited as 
the Grecian and Roman nations.' 

" The Father. 

" ' Exactly so. The progress of events at Rome, although 
indeed not the same, was nevertheless similar. And such I 
think we should find to be the case with every nation, if we 
were as well acquainted with their rise as we are with the 
zenith of their glory and their decline.' 

" Thomas. 
" ' Yes, Father ; I think we are safe in saying this.' 

" The Mother. 

" ' Bring some wood, William, and strike the flint. The fire 
has gone out while I have been listening to this conversation.' 

" The Father. 

" ' Now, Thomas, since this has hitherto been so universally 
the course of things, I cannot help agreeing with you that it is 
more than probable that the future will bear an analogy to the 
past ; and I think that your Mother, from her silence, is coming 
to the same conclusion. I think we cannot avoid the inference 
that the white man, having once gained access to this land of 



212 

novelty, and with all the appliances of civilization and Chris- 
tianity, will soon overspread its surface, and sweeping all before 
him, will rush forward to wealth and power.' 

" The Mother. 
" ' What do you think will be the fate of the red man ? ' 

" The Father. 

" ' He will be swept from the earth by the breath of the 
cannon.' 

" Thomas. 

" ' Never ! Never ! Father. Is it possible that this en- 
lightened age can be guilty of those vile excesses which are 
characteristic of barbarous times ? Has not man, who has been 
so long under the Gospel dispensation, learned to recognize the 
brother-man even in the savage ? Shall not brutality now give 
place to kinder feelings ? ' 

"The Father. 

" ' Would to God it might be so ! But let us here, also, re- 
member and reason from the past, and keep the eye of faith 
upon Prophecy. As to the past, we may not find in Greece 
and Rome a sufficient analogy, in your moral sense, for my con- 
clusion. But, how was it between the Israelites and the idola- 



213 

trous nations into whose land they were conducted ? Who 
shall scrutinize the Providence of God, whose ways are un- 
searchable and past finding out ? But this we know, that, 
although His sun riseth alike upon the just and the unjust, He 
executes vengeance upon the wicked and idolatrous, and ren- 
ders man, whether civilized or savage, an instrument of his 
severest judgments. Nor, Thomas, does it seem reasonable, in 
the nature of things, that this vast continent, vast, as we have 
reason to think it is, should be forever the inheritance of igno- 
rance and superstition, the abode of wanderers who are as use- 
less to each other, perhaps as savage, and having almost as little 
intellectual pleasure, as the bears and wolves that seem to be 
as numerous, and which are actually less fearful to us.' 

"Thomas. 

" ' What do you think will be the government of the 
country % ' 

"The Fathee. 

" ' I suppose you mean that part of it which will be settled 
by colonies from Great Britain, as it is with such we are more 
nearly connected ? ' 

" Thomas. 

" ' Certainly ; though we may expect adventurers from other 
countries when our prosperity becomes known.' 



214 



" The Father. 



" ' Here we again found our conjectures upon history. We 
see, in the first place, that the parent country always claims the 
right of rule over the colonies sent out by her ; and perhaps 
that is no more than just. But we also find that it is generally 
impossible for one country to maintain its sway over another 
situated at so great a distance ; especially if the latter be of 
great extent. It may, indeed, sometimes prolong its dominion 
by means of standing armies ; but at length these are of no 
avail. For the present, therefore, we must make up our minds 
that the despotism from which we have fled will overtake and 
rule us in this wilderness. But the same history upon which 
this conjecture is founded teaches also the probability that, at 
some day or other, these supposed Colonies, with several thou- 
sand miles of Ocean rolling between them and then- Parent- 
land, will bid defiance to the British Lion and hoist a flag of 
their own.' 

" The Mother. 
" ' May we live to see that day ! ' 

" Thomas. 

" ' What form of government do you think will then be 
adopted ? ' 



215 



" The Father. 

" ' I think it impossible to make any calculations as to what 
will be the first form ; but I have no doubt that it will eventu- 
ally be the monarchical, as this seems to be the one which has 
finally prevailed in all couatries. It would seem likely, how- 
ever, as Colonies are ruled even with greater despotism than 
the mother country, that when the first crisis comes the people 
will run to the other extreme and set up something like the 
Roman Republic' 

" Thomas. 

" ' I should hardly think, from the greater enlightenment of 
our times, and from what we can see of the progress of know- 
ledge and Christianity, that they will imitate a popular system 
which will scarcely fail, as in former times, to run into anarchy 
or military despotism.' 

" The Father. 

" ' You are quite right, Thomas. While we adhere to the 
analogies of history, we should consider, also, the modifying 
effects of increasing knowledge and experience. I have no idea 
that the revolted colonies will begin without some well-organ- 
ized system of government ; and, although it should be of a 
popular form, care will doubtless be taken to confine the choice 
of Legislators and Magistrates to those who have an interest in 



216 

the well-being of society. That will answer well while the 
population is small, and the inhabited territory is not exten- 
sive.' 

" Thomas. 

" ' What will be likely to happen to that growth of the 
Country which we have anticipated ? ' 

" The Father. 

" ' Monarchy. That, I think we may say, is the plain voice 
of history. Besides, I do not see how even a hundred millions, 
inhabiting a territory of vast extent, can ever govern themselves 
by popular elections. But, before monarchy comes, something 
worse will precede it ; and here we must turn for our conjec- 
tures to what we know of human nature. It seems likely, then, 
as the multitude increases, and the government works well, that 
that part of the mass who have no qualifications for voting will 
become clamorous for equal political rights. This will be likely 
to grow out of their numerical strength, and this very strength 
will be likely to overawe the government and bring the other 
portion of the people to their demands. Various other influ- 
ences may easily be supposed to operate ; such as intrigues for 
power, bribery, and so forth. At any rate, all this is human 
nature, and we know very well what are the effects of a contin- 
ual dropping of water.' 



217 



" Thomas. 

" ' Well, then, suppose the whole community, fifty or a hun- 
dred millions, have the same political rights, what will be likely 
to happen ? ' 

" The Fathek. 

" ' I hardly dare to imagine what may take place before the 
monarchy follows. But there will be such vast numbers who 
will be easily misled, or may have no interest in a stable govern- 
ment, or be careless or unable to calculate its importance, and 
so many who will be ambitious of power, that it would seem to 
be impossible that such a government should not fall a victim 
to its own popular movements.' 

" Thomas. 

" ' What do you think will be the rank which this Nation 
will hold ? ' 

" The Fathee. 

" ' The fact that the noble blood of the Briton will circulate 
in their veins is enough to assure us, that, to whatever they 
may turn their attention, be it commerce, the plough, the loom, 
or the sword, in that they will be great, equalled by few, sur- 
passed by none.' 



218 

" Thomas. 
" ' Do you think they will follow those pursuits ? ' 

" The Father. 

" ' It is most natural that Colonies should partake of the 
nature of the Nation from whom they come. The child gen- 
erally has the traits of the parents.' 

" Thomas. 

" ' As the British are given mostly to Commerce and war, 
we have, then, a right to conclude that this country will be 
especially distinguished in these. Indeed, we have, for the 
encouragement of the last, what appears to be a fine sea-coast, 
which alone would almost confirm our opinion. As to agricul- 
ture, that will be a matter of course. But what will the Nation 
be with regard to genius ? ' 

" The Father. 

" ' Most brilliant, as long as it can boast of being descended 
from the noble Britons, whom Heaven has endowed with an 
unusual portion of its ethereal fire.' 

" The Mother. 
" ' Come, my dear, it is late and we are all sleepy. Let us 



219 

leave the fate of this Country to One Who alone can compre- 
hend the mysteries of the future.' 

" Robert Troup Paine. 
" Harvard University, November 25, 1848." 



THESIS — AETICLE XIII. 

" 'AN AMERICAN NOVEL WRITTEN NOW UPON A SUPPOSED STATE OP 
THINGS IN THE TEAR 1900.' 

" In the moral and political world, as in the physical, certain 
causes, doubtless, always give rise to certain effects. As in the 
latter, also, by familiar acquaintance with its laws we are able 
to prognosticate certain results from certain causes, so in the 
former we should be able to do the same with as much preci- 
sion if we had the same facilities for becoming acquainted with 
the connection between causes and effects, between one event 
and another. But we have not the same advantages in the one 
case as in the other. The phenomena of the physical world 
take place in a uniform manner. They are the same to-day as 
yesterday. There are the same causes in operation, and, there- 
fore, the same effects follow. These we may calculate, because 
they are not liable to variation in their nature. But not so in 
the political and moral world. We find not there at any two 
periods the causes the same. A variety of influences are con- 



220 



stautly springing up to affect the nature of causes, and hence 
the effects will be of a corresponding variety. Among the most 
evident of these are fluctuations in the state of society, which is 
never exactly the same at one time as at another. It is evident, 
therefore, that analogy is here our principal guide, and that it 
must be more uncertain than in the established order of Nature. 
Hence we say of moral and political events that they will proba- 
bly happen in a certain manner because the condition of things 
now in operation is analogous to those that existed at some 
antecedent time. Our conclusions, therefore, in such cases, must 
be more or less conjectural ; for even where the causes are most 
apparent there are some concealed from observation, and these 
very ones may give a different turn to events than had been 
expected. But when the causes are not the same as at preced- 
ing times, we can only, at the most, approach to correctness, and 
may often form very vague speculations. 

" Looking, now, at the present state of things in our own 
Country, taking into consideration the nature of its institutions, 
the spirit and enterprise of its people, and its domestic and 
foreign relations, what may we venture to predict as to its pro- 
bable condition fifty years hence ? 

" What, in the first place, will be its form of government ? 
Here, at the outset, analogy greatly fails us, for our own condi- 
tion is unlike that of any other nation. We are therefore com- 
pelled to reason mostly from ourselves alone, and from what we 
know of the nature of man. If, then, we may form an opinion 



221 

from the continued stability of our Republic for more than 
seventy years, from its increasing strength, and from the attach- 
ment to this form of government which daily grows stronger in 
the breasts of our people, we can see no ground for supposing 
that this Union is destined within fifty years to fall into the 
condition either of an oligarchy or a monarchy. On the con- 
trary, there is much probability that it will become more 
strongly established on its present basis, and that the blessings 
of liberty will be still dearer and more highly appreciated. 
But what may be the state of things over so vast a territory at 
a more distant time, and considering also what may be the ten- 
dencies of universal suffrage when the numbers become vast 
whose special interest will consist in what has been called the 
largest liberty, we will scarcely venture to surmise. This, how- 
ever, is to be mostly feared from foreign adventurers. The 
Republic may be, in this way, sowing the seeds of its own ruin. 
The foreigner can never become an American patriot. He may 
fight our battles while he is paid for it ; but he will not do it 
from any love of country. He has no feelings in common with 
the heirs of the soil, and he will be always guided by his private 
interests. 

" But what are the prospects of the Country within the 
period assigned ? Is it possible that this great extent of terri- 
tory shall hang together under one government for the next 
following half century ? Is it possible that the different portions 
of our Country, so different in their physical aspects, in the cus- 



222 



tonis, sentiments, and dispositions of its people, should continue 
together harmoniously for fifty years to come ? 

" This cpaestion can be answered only by considering the 
causes which may bring about disunion. By looking at these, 
we can see a possibility that the Northern and the Southern 
States may separate into two great and independent Republics. 
But the probability of such an event immediately vanishes when 
we consider that the very object which would mostly prompt a 
separation would be defeated as soon as it should take place. 
If the South should ever secede from the North, it will be for 
the preservation of slavery ; but in doing so they will do away 
with it for ever. The three millions of slaves which they now 
hold in peaceful subjection would instantly rise in open rebel- 
lion, and depopulating their country with fire and sword, fly 
afterwards to the arms of a people who would give them pro- 
tection, if not their sympathies. 

" But fears may be entertained by some lest the great Coun- 
try of the West, on account of the peculiarities of its physical 
condition, and the character and habits of the people (much of 
it, too, having been obtained by conquest), may be led to raise 
itself into an independent Republic. In considering, however, 
the causes of rebellion, we see that, however various they may 
have been, there are two which have always formed the ground- 
work ; a love of liberty and a hope of improvement. But what 
gain, in these respects, can accrue to the West from revolution ? 
What blessing would they obtain which they do not now enjoy? 



223 

What greater liberty could they achieve, what greater desire ? 
They, too, must always have a preponderance in our national 
councils, and as the North -will be cemented to the whole by its 
commercial and manufacturing character, these two great sec- 
tions will unite in maintaining harmonious relations with the 
South. 

" Our conquests and other acquisitions of territory differ 
from those of all other nations. The conquered countries are 
incorporated into the Union, and all are placed upon a common 
footing. There are, throughout, the same privileges, the same 
participation in government, the same laws. This will keep 
down all feeling of inferiority, and prevent any well-founded 
sense of oppression. There must, of course, be more or less 
strife, either of a political nature, or such as may be prompted 
by sectional interests ; but the great balance-wheel will be 
always at work in its office of pacification. 

" But there are certain other advantages which are pecu- 
liarly adapted to cement and perpetuate our Union. The rail- 
road and the magnetic telegraph are improvements, as we con- 
ceive, which more than any thing else perhaps, are calculated to 
unite all in one interest, to make all feel a mutual dependence 
upon one another, and the great advantages which arise from 
union of heart and hand. In considering the rapid progress of 
these improvements during the few years since their introduc- 
tion, and the enterprise of our people, we find an earnest of 
their future extension, and are warranted in the prediction that 



224 

before the lapse of many years, certainly in less than fifty, the 
extremes of our vast territory will be brought together by the 
annihilators of sj)ace ; that we can then go from Maine to Cali- 
fornia in a few days, and two friends in the respective places 
will be able to converse about as easily and freely as if under 

the same roof. 

" Robert Troup Paine. 

" Harvard University, November 14, 1850." 



FORENSIC — AKTICLE XIV. 

"'whether the conduct op the patriots who destroyed the 
tea in boston harbor, in 1773, is to be condemned. 

" It needs but little acquaintance with human nature to see 
the necessity of government ; nay, to see that the principle is 
implanted in the very nature of the mind. In short, wherever 
we find an assemblage of men, however small, there we find a 
disposition to connect themselves together by government of 
some kind. When there is a difference of opinion or wishes 
upon any point of mutual interest, it is evidently more proper 
that one should give way to two than that two should yield 
to one. 

" As government, therefore, is necessary to the well-being of 
man, and as we are so constituted that few think alike on the 



225 

same subjects, it is manifest that governments will exist, and 
that the majority have a right to rule the minority. This right 
extends to laws that are free from oppression, and so far it is 
the duty of the minority to obey them. We see, then, that 
there are certain conditions and limitations by which the ma- 
jority should be restricted. In the first place, the minority 
should always have a perfectly free voice. Secondly ; the ma- 
jority have no right to enact a, particular law, or law intended 
for a few and not for all to whom its conditions may apply. A 
law, for instance, to compel a particular merchant to pay duty 
could have no shadow of right, although the majority were 98 
per cent ; while one requiring all engaged in the same trade to 
pay the duty, would be, as far as the present consideration goes, 
perfectly proper. Thirdly ; the majority have no right to en- 
force a law against an action performed before the passage of 
the law. 

" With these limitations and conditions, we lay down the 
principle that the majority have a right to rule over the mi- 
nority. 

" Let us now take a view of the different kinds of govern- 
ment ; see which one comes up most perfectly to our idea of a 
majority ruling over a minority, and how far others depart 
from this conception. 

" A perfect democracy, like that of Athens, stands forth as 
a complete embodiment of our principle. Under this form, as 
every Citizen has a right to vote on all public measures, if any 



226 

one be dissatisfied with a proposition he objects to it, and it is 
counted for him in the general reckoning. The result is an 
expression, literally, of the will of the people. This is the most 
natural form of legislation. It is true independence ; at least as 
much so as possible, in its relation to government. 

" But mankind, at least a portion of them, in undergoing 
refinement, left the natural, simple form of government, as they 
had already their simple and plain mode of life, and gradually 
created an artificial form ; a Republic being the result. Now, 
although this be generally considered the very essence of free- 
dom, is it not more imaginary than real ? It is true, the legis- 
lators are chosen from the people and by the people. Each 
Citizen can vote for whom he pleases. But, then, each Legisla- 
tor can vote, and does vote, according to his own pleasure, and 
not unfrequently in opposition to the opinions and wishes of 
those whom he nominally represents. And, although it be not 
uncommon that unpopular, and sometimes oppressive measures 
arise from this system, the tactics, machinery, and corruption of 
party leaders often beguile the people into a pursuit of objects 
against their own wishes and interests ; till, at last, misgovern- 
ment may become so manifest as to be no longer tolerated, and 
a change of rulers takes place. 

" Next comes the limited, but hereditary monarchy. This 
is, of course, still more removed from our simple principle of 
liberty and independence. In this, to be sure, as in the Repub- 
lic, there are nominal representatives of the people ; but the 



227 

people do not have the same general voice in their election, and 
every thing is more arbitrary. But, connected with the monar- 
chy there are frequently tracts of land called Provinces, the 
inhabitants of which are ruled by officers appointed by the 
general government, and by laws in the making of which they 
have neither voice nor representation. 

" There is still another form which we shall only mention, 
as it is not a regular system of government. It is the despotic. 
This is the most arbitrary, illiberal of all, and farthest removed 
from the realization of the fundamental principle of civil liberty. 
In short, it is simply might prevailing over right. 

" We have now before us the general principle, that, under 
the conditions and limitations we have mentioned, the majority 
have a right to rule over the minority. Suppose, then, a law to 
be passed under a perfect democracy, and in conformity with 
the mutual concessions ; but yet the law shall be highly dis- 
pleasing to the minority. Have they, on this account, a right 
to rebel ? Unquestionably not. This would be to deny govern- 
ment altogether ; to rebel against Nature, to rebel against an 
institution founded upon a principle of the human mind. Hence 
it follows that, in a perfect democracy, the minority have no 
right to resist the majority, as rulers. 

" But let us suppose the case to be different ; that the majo- 
rity have not observed all the conditions and limitations by 
which they are rightfully bound. The aspect of the whole case 
is now entirely altered. The majority have now parted with 



228 

right and justice, which they might have retained, but which 
has now gone over to the minority. And now come into opera- 
tion other natural principles which are implanted in the mind 
along with the principle of government. These are a sense of 
certain natural rights, and an impulse to retributive justice 
whenever these rights are infringed ; and if we derive from 
an innate desire of government the necessity of submission to 
the majority, we equally infer from our perceptions of justice 
the duty of the majority in respecting the rights of the minority, 
and, when this is not done, the propriety of resistance or rebel- 
lion, if necessary. There are, therefore, principles in operation 
between the two parties which have a constant tendency to 
maintain the rights of both ; and were it not for the natural 
right of resistance when the social compact is violated, there 
would be no limit to which an overbearing majority might not 
carry their abuse of power. 

" Let us now bring into contrast the extremes of govern- 
ment ; the perfect democracy and despotism. The hive of free- 
dom — chains and slavery ! One man trampling upon the most 
indelible principle of humanity ! Shall such usurpation exist, 
even though to dispense equal and exact justice to all ? Shall 
one man dictate the temporal interests of all ? God forbid ! for 
that is His prerogative alone. To arms ! To arms ! and lift 
fallen humanity from the dust ! Give it freedom, the second 
precious of all rights ! 

" With regard to the Republic, and limited Monarchy (that 



229 

is, the iruraecliate government), suffice it to say, that, although 
the people have no direct voice in making laws, they have dele- 
gated this power, by common consent, to nominal representa- 
tives. The same rules, therefore, hold good in these instances 
as in that of a perfect Democracy ; so that, here as there, the 
majority must rule with the same equity ; or, in failure of which, 
the minority may resist the encroachment upon their rights, 
and, if necessary, in open rebellion. 

" We come, lastly, to the Provinces of a limited Monarchy, 
about which our former remarks are especially concerned, and 
which are necessary to a right understanding of the question 
before us. Here the matter stands very differently from what 
it does with the immediate government. In the latter case the 
rights of the people are more similar to what they are in a per- 
fect Democracy, or at least a Republic, while in the former 
there is the resemblance of a Despotism. Indeed, we may say 
that the government of Provinces has all the essential charac- 
teristics of despotic sway. The people, in both conditions, are 
ruled by officers whom they have no voice in electing, and by 
laws in the making of which they have neither voice nor repre- 
sentation. In both, every thing is arbitrary. In both, it is 
might prevailing against right. The only difference is, that, in 
the one case it is usurpation and tyranny on the part of a num- 
ber, in the other, of an individual. But this is merely a differ- 
ence in form, merely an external difference, and of no impor- 
tance to those who suffer by it. There is equal injustice in both 



230 

cases. If, then, this be so, the same rules must apply to the 
inhabitants of Provinces as to those who live under the despo- 
tism of a single man. 

" With regard to the taxation of the American Colonies by 
Great Britain, and the duty imposed upon tea, it is needless to 
repeat history, as that is too well known. Suffice it to say that 
it was an arbitrary act, as was the whole of the provincial gov- 
ernment by the mother country. It was a matter in which 
the Colonies had neither voice nor representation. We would 
observe, also, that they did not, at first, proceed to open rebel- 
lion, but remonstrated, and remonstrated, and not till after find- 
ing all peaceable measures in vain did they resort to violence. 
They were monarchists themselves, and would have been con- 
tented to have remained so under a more liberal system. As in 
all other cases where revolutions have sprung up, the Colonists 
forbore till oppression awakened the true spirit of liberty. 
Such is all history, and we may therefore conclude that such 
will be the progress of events till universal freedom and broth- 
erhood prevail. Under these circumstances, then, we say that 
the conduct of those who threw the tea overboard should be 
commended by every true friend of human liberty and the 

dignity of man. 

" Robert Troup Paine. 

" Harvard University, December 26, 1850." 



231 



FORENSIC — ARTICLE XV. 

" ' WHETHER REPUBLICAN INSTITUTIONS ARE FAVORABLE TO THE 
CULTIVATION OF THE FINE ARTS ? ' 

" Painting, sculpture, and music, like every other art which 
finds its sphere of operations in a civilized community alone, 
must arrive at their greatest perfection under those institutions 
which tend most to the highest state of cultivation and refine- 
ment. Such is the effect of those institutions which most pro- 
mote general education, nay, to whose existence a high degree 
of general education is necessary, and which hold out encour- 
agement to each individual, and secure to him the fruit and 
reputation of his own labor. This, pre-eminently, is the nature 
and tendency of Republicanism. 

" Starting from the sternest despotism, we find it conducive 
only to the grossest and most universal ignorance ; that this 
alone is its only safeguard ; for, as we ascend in the scale of 
liberty, we find that government which is in the least degree 
above despotism to be attended with the first germs of any 
general mental improvement. So at each ascending step we 
meet with a corresponding advancement between the govern- 
ment and the moral and intellectual condition of the people ; 
until we reach the most liberal Republic, where the sun of 



232 

education shines not alone upon a favored few, but dispenses 
through the whole land the bright light of noonday. Again, in 
other governments it is the powerful, the rich, who, alone, enjoy 
consideration or even respect. It is the hereditary lord, the 
duke, the pampered of fortune, such as are ' clothed in purple 
and fine twined linen,' and ' sit in high places.' In the Republic, 
only, is every man, in Spanish phrase, 'the son of his own 
works.' ' An equal chance to all,' is the motto of its institutions. 
What a glorious rule this for every diversity of talent, and not 
more for others than for the painter, the sculptor, and the musi- 
cian ! Our Nation is young, and working for subsistence ; but 
poor as it may be, what say the subscriptions to our Art-Unions, 
what mean those crowded halls, throughout our land, to listen 
to every kind of melody as warbled by the ' Swedish Nightin- 
gale,' to the lofty strains of David, and Mozart, and Handel ? 
What greater incentive to ambition than to know that every 
thing depends upon yourself ; that, although of the poorest and 
meanest parentage, you may yet become the morning-star of 
your country ! These are only glances at a fruitful subject ; but 
they seem to us to depend upon principles as high as Heaven. 

" It is often, said, however, that, in a Monarchy greater 
encouragement is given to the fine arts by reason of greater 
pecuniary inducements ; that there we find those princely for- 
tunes which are decidedly contrary to the spirit of republican 
institutions. It is true, that, according to the genius of monar- 
chy, the mass of wealth is thrown into the hands of a few ; that 



233 

a Prince, or a Lord, may, from Ms own income, often maintain 
a hundred artists in handsome independence. It is also true 
that this cannot be said of a republic. But does this prove the 
insufficiency of pecuniary inducements to artists in a republic ? 
Wealth may not have the same exuberant growth as among 
individuals under a monarchy ; but it is better distributed, suf- 
ficiently ample, and in the hands of those who have as much 
taste, knowledge, and munificence of spirit as the more wealthy 
aristocrat. They may not as yet, in our country, be able to 
compass the choicest works of art ; but whatever is below is 
within the reach of far greater numbers. This, however, is an 
evil of only to-day. Look at our multiplying wealth, popula- 
tion, and power ! What does it arise from but our republican 
principles ? And shall not the same principles continue to 
operate, and shower down their blessings upon the fine arts as 
well as upon the useful, those arts which have grown out of the 
noblest impulses of man, and must, therefore, meet with a recip- 
rocal sympathy wherever knowledge lights up the spark of 
ethereal fire ? In the mean time, we say again, observe the 
demonstrations all over our land, — the Associations, the Lotte- 
ries, the Art-Unions, the crowds that seem enchanted by song 
and instrument, and hail with eclat the last written stanzas and 
the last composition in music. Nor this only. The government 
itself, when in the hands of taste and refinement, is often a 
bountiful patron. Witness the most elegant productions of 
Greece, both in painting and statuary, and still the admiration 



234 

of the world, executed at the public expense. Witness, too, in 
our own Country, young as it is, a manifestation of the same 
thiiv by a local government, in the statue of Calhoun, and in 
the order from the National Legislature, as I have understood, 
for a group emblematic of our political condition. 

" We do not mean, however, to deny, that, so far as experi- 
ence has gone, greater pecuniary inducements exist under the 
monarchical form of government, but we contend that those in 
a republican are sufficient ; that, although there be some defect 
here in this respect, the greater opportunities to the Artist in 
other respects more than compensate. The fact that under a 
republic every one is at first on an equality, but by his own 
exertions may attain all the acknowledgment of excellence to 
which his merits entitle him, that every effort he makes is en- 
couraged by public approbation, proves an incentive to ambi- 
tion which the distinctions of monarchy serve only to crush. If, 
then, the monarchy be more a patron of the eminent and estab- 
lished Artist (which may be doubted), the republic is certainly 
the school and college in which his faculties are most matured. 

" What we have thus arrived at, mostly by inductive reason- 
ing from principles, we find to be borne out by history. As 
little as science and the useful arts had advanced in the time of 
Greece, she is acknowledged by all to have remained the Mis- 
tress of the world in Literature and the arts of taste, and, as we 
have seen, some of her most splendid productions were executed 
at the public call. We find, moreover, that the amount of 



235 

encouragement bestowed upon the fine arts has been propor- 
tionate, in a general sense, to the republican character of gov- 
ernments. 

" Robert Troup Paine. 
" Harvard University, November 21, 1850." 



THESIS — AETICLE XVI. 

" ' HE COULD NOT BEAR AN EQUAL.' 

" What beautiful symmetry throughout Nature ! What 
surprising adaptation of every thing to that one great end, the 
happiness of Man ! In his physical frame, whether we look at 
the wonderful power of the gastric juice, at the philosophy of 
respiration, or the make of the hand which fits it so admirably 
to be the servant of reason, how amazingly do all things work 
together for man's animal welfare ! But, turn our attention to 
the immaterial, immortal part, and new and greater wonders 
are opened to our view. There we behold that same harmony, 
that same cooperation of causes for the well being of man. 
There sit enthroned the spirit of emulation, the desire of know- 
ledge, the desire of power, and the desire of gain. There, too, 
are anger, jealousy, revenge, with their kindred spirits ; all of 
them under Reason as their sovereign, and each of them play- 
ing its part in the economy of man's well being. 



236 

" Of all these active powers the spirit of emulation is, per- 
haps, the most essential. Without it the world were compara- 
tively stagnant, and man hut little exalted above the brute. 
But we cannot sufficiently admire the Wisdom which has coun- 
teracted this inferiority, which has provided for the due exercise 
of all the intellectual faculties, and made the world what it is, 
by merely associating in the mind of man the spirit to outstrip 
his brother. If, however, there were no limitations, it is obvi- 
ous that all would be a scene of discontent and disappointed 
ambition. But this is wisely provided against by making the 
spirit of emulation, in any pursuit, proportioned in every one to 
his abilities. In other words, emulation exists only among those 
who are equal, or nearly so, in their abilities for obtaining a 
common object. 

" The spirit thus restricted prevails in every class and order 
of men. The laborer, who strives with his pickaxe to overtake 
his fellow, is actuated by the same emulation which existed 
between Euripides and Sophocles, which would have existed 
between Alexander and Napoleon had they been contempora- 
ries, and which is so often displayed between Webster and 
Clay. 

" Nor is this spirit confined to any age, for beginning with 
the dawn of reason, it is our faithful attendant to the grave. 
It was this that actuated young Napoleon in the defence of his 
snow-castle, and in manhood in his greatest military exploits. 
It enters as an ingredient into the pleasure we derive from 



23? 

almost every thing we do. And yet, while it enhances pleasure, 
it gives us no rest as long as there is one whom we look upon 
as our equal. This may, indeed, appear paradoxical ; the source 
of our best enjoyment, and, at the same time, of our greatest 
uneasiness. It is somewhat analogous to the grief and pleasure 
experienced on witnessing a tragedy, the explanation of which 
can he found only in the constitution of the human mind. 

" It is this spirit which infuses pleasure into games. We all 
know to what height emulation raged at the Olympic Games, 
and all of similar kind. The same is also true of those of a dif- 
ferent nature. In Chess, for example, that this is the operating 
principle is evident from the little pleasure we derive from play- 
ing with one who is much our superior or inferior, compared 
with that which flows from a nearer equality in skill. It is the 
secret charm of the ganibling-table, at least where mind is 
brought into operation. It is this spirit which then gives a 
greater value to the stake than when the same amount is gained 
by labor, or as an ordinary gift. 

" It is in the sense which we have now considered it, that 
we are not able to bear an equal ; though some may suppose 
that the question implies an indulgence of envy and ill-will. 
These passions may grow out of the principle, but are in no 
respect necessary to it, or a part of it. "We constantly see the 
strongest rivals bound together by the warmest cordiality. 
Were it otherwise, indeed, the spirit of emulation would be a 
poisoner of our bliss. 



238 

" But, that emulation may dispense its blessings, it must, 
like all our other principles and desires, be subjected to the 
controlling power of reason. It is ungoverned emulation that 
gives birth to a rankling envy of those who may have outstrip- 
ped us in the race, and contempt for others whom we have left 
behind ; and 

' envy darts a sting 



That makes a swain as wretched as a king.' 

" Let us, therefore, in view of the advantages and pleasures 
of emulation, and since it enters into every pursuit, cultivate it 
according to its worth, and chiefly in those occupations which 
are high and noble, nor rest so long as one remains whom we 
may surpass. But, at the same time, let it be so controlled 
that if our rivals should surpass ourselves, we may suffer no dis- 
turbance of that peace which is the balm of life ; or, on the 
other hand, should excellence attend our walks, we may not be 
elated with haughty pride. (See page 142.) 

" Bobeet Troup Paine. 

" Harvard University, March 14, 1850." 



239 



FOEENSIC— AETICLE XVII. 

" ' WAS THE ACT OF BRUTUS IN KILLING CJESAR JUSTIFIABLE ? ' 

" It is fundamental in morals that the motive of an act is 
the essence of the virtue or vice of which the act is the mani- 
festation. Otherwise, why is a certain act applauded in one 
person and the same thing censured in another ? It is for this 
reason that various degrees of punishment are allotted to crimes 
which differ only in their motives, and which, accordingly, are 
designated by names that are indicative of their degrees of 
atrocity. Killing another is always the same act ; but it may 
be murder, manslaughter, or justifiable homicide. In one case 
the punishment is extreme, in another the same act is com- 
mendable. 

" If, then, we judge of the act by the motive, by what stand- 
ard shall we judge of the motive ? In answering this impor- 
tant question, we shall avoid all speculation respecting the 
origin and nature of motives considered as such, and confine 
ourselves to an interpretation of their morality, or the ideas of 
right or wrong which we attach to them. Nor will it be neces- 
sary to consider any but such as relate to homicide. So far, 
therefore, it is our purpose to inquire into the general principle 
by which we are guided in our justification or condemnation of 



240 

an act committed under the influence of any particular motive. 
Among those which may be supposed to operate are jealousy, 
envy, the desire of gain, instinctive or deliberate resentment, 
and defence of rights. The first three, and all others of the 
same kind, are adjudged by the whole civilized world to be of 
the basest nature, and homicide committed under their influence 
as the highest crime. In the case of instinctive resentment, the 
degree of right or wrong attached to the motive depends upon 
the magnitude of the offence which is the object of resentment. 
But here an allowance should be always made for the rashness 
of an act committed on the spur of the moment, and before 
reason has had time to exercise its free control. When the de- 
fence of personal rights results in homicide, the justification of 
the motive obviously depends upon the necessity of immediate 
and extreme action. In all nations, civilized and barbarous, 
every one is justified in defending himself, his friends, and pro- 
perty, against the highway robber and the burglar. Then anger 
should whet the blade of justice, for then not to do is perhaps 
to die. 

" We are aware that there are some who will question the 
morality of what we have just said ; but he that does not 
approve the homicide where immediate and extreme action is 
necessary for protection, must impute to his Creator a defect in 
the constitution of man, in having made self-defence not only a 
universal, but the first law of nature ; and, without it He would 
long ago have been the Lord of a desert world. 



241 

" In comparing the grounds on which we justify or condemn 
the different motives for homicide, we think that two general 
standards may he deduced, by which we are guided in our deci- 
sions. The first is the deserts of the individual who is the sub- 
ject of the homicide considered in relation to the motive. 
Thus, the promptings of envy, avarice, and the like, are with- 
out extenuation, as they have no connection with the deserts of 
him against whom they are directed, but originate entirely in 
the baseness of the assailant ; while, on the other hand, where 
provocation exists, the justification or palliation of the motive 
for homicide depends upon the magnitude of that provocation. 

" The second standard is the necessity of immediate and 
extreme measures for protection. 

" Having now obtained the general criteria by which we 
may estimate the motives for homicide, we may proceed, in the 
first place, to ascertain the motive of Brutus in killing Csesar, 
and then to decide upon its merits. 

" "We cannot doubt that Shakspeare has rightly indicated 
the motive, where Brutus is very aptly made to confess it in his 
solemn meditations, before the assassination took place. He 
soliloquizes thus : — 

" ' It must be by bis deatb ; and for my part, 
I know no personal cause to spurn at him, 
But for tbe general. He would be crowned ; — 
How that might change his nature, there's the question. 
It is the bright day that brings forth the adder ; 

31 



242 

And that craves wary walking. Crown him? — That;- 

And then, I grant, we put a sting in him, 

That at his will he may do danger with. 

The abuse of greatness is, when it disjoins 

Remorse from power. And to speak truth of Caesar, 

I have not known when his affections swayed 

More than his reason. But 't is a common proof 

That lowliness is young ambition's ladder, 

Whereto the climber-upward turns his face ; 

But when he once attains the utmost round, 

He then unto the ladder turns his back, 

Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees 

By which he did ascend. So Caesar may ; 

Then, lest he may, prevent .' 

' Think him as a seq>ent's egg, 

Which, hatched, would, as his kind, grow mischievous, 
And kill him in the shell.' 



" If we follow this, the motive of Brutus was not founded 
on the deserts of Caesar. So, therefore, had Caesar even de- 
served his fate, that can be no palliation for Brutus. He was, 
also, the ostensible friend of Caesar ; and, as the latter had not 
even the opportunity of abusing power, there was not the least 
plea of necessity for immediate and extreme measures for protec- 
tion. Caesar threatened not the state. He would be crowned, to 
be sure ; and who is there that would not ? But he would not 
crown himself. Who doubts that there are many in France, 
aye, in the United States, that would be king ? But shall they 
on this account be put to death ? Or, were any one proclaimed 
king of either country, should it not rather be considered as an 



243 

act of folly on the part of the people, than of tyrauny and 
usurpation in him who is merely the recipient ? Csesar might, 
according to Brutus, abuse his power, and ruin his country ; but 
this, at best, was mere conjecture. Let us illustrate the princi- 
ple by something analogous ; for, although to us it seems to be 
plain, Brutus has been often justified by sound moralists. Sup- 
pose, then, myself to have slain another whom I had offended, 
and whom I knew to be revengeful ; will the fear of my own 
life justify me in such an act of prevention ? But, if that man 
should attack me, or I should have unmistakable evidence that 
he had a design upon my life, and there were no time for the 
intervention of civil power, the state of the case would be com- 
pletely altered, and homicide rendered justifiable. The blood 
upon my hands, though physically red, would be morally white. 
Again, here is a case more parallel still. Suppose that I were 
to meet, accidentally, in some sequestered place, a man of noto- 
rious avarice, perhaps already known as a thief or a burglar, 
and this man should see me in possession of a large amount of 
money ; would any fear arising from this knowledge justify me 
in the extreme act of prevention, or in any violence towards him ? 
Certainly not. I must quietly wait for any apprehended assault. 
" Had Caesar been engaged in a conspiracy against his coun- 
try, or had he been marching an army against it, or, like Sylla, 
had issued proscriptions, and the safety of its institutions, or of 
its citizens, had demanded his destruction, we should have said, 
Well done, Brutus ! 



244 

" But it is commonly thought that Brutus acted from a dis- 
interested and patriotic motive. We believe it, and are happy 
to do so ; for it takes from the deed that appalling aspect which 
it must have borne had he been prompted by envy, and reduces 
it to a far less criminal defect in the moral sense. This, too, is 
the opinion of Shakspeare, as variously implied ; especially 
when he makes the courageous Brutus a conscientious foe to 
felonious homicide. 

' Cassius. — If we do lose this battle, then is this 

The very last time we shall speak together. 
"What are you then determined to do ? 

'Brutus. — Even by the rule of that philosophy 

By which I did blame Cato for the death 

Which he did give himself. — I know not how, 

But I do find it cowardly and vile, 

For fear of what might fall, so to prevent 

The time of fife ; — arming myself with patience, 

To stay the providence of some high powers, 

That govern us below.' 

" The sum of the whole is this. Brutus was not actuated 
by malevolence, nor was Caesar engaged in any movements in- 
jurious to his country, but was slain by his friend because of 
vague suspicions that he might be guilty at some future time. 
The consequences of this act, therefore, are of far greater mo- 
ment than the act itself. 

" Kobert Troup Paine. 

" Harvard University, March 21, 1850." 



245 



THESIS — AETICLE XVILT. 

" ' THE CIVIL "WAR WAS NEAR, AND BOTH (LESAR AND POMPEY PAID 
GEEAT COURT TO CICERO, EACH RECKONING UPON HIM AS A DETER- 
MINED FRIEND.' 

" ' THE DIFFICULTIES OF A STATESMAN WHO WISHES TO STAND WELL 
WITH ALL.' 

" In all civilized countries, and at all ages, it has been the 
custom of men, of every rank and profession, to court the favor 
of the Statesman. In cases, therefore, where the different party 
principles are of a conflicting nature, where their interests are 
widely different, and the parties obstinate, the Statesman, who 
is appealed to alike by all for support, and who feels his own 
best interests to depend upon the manner in which he can give 
the greatest satisfaction to all, seems at first thought to be 
surrounded by the greatest difficulties imaginable. And so is 
it, indeed, if he act the hypocrite, or take not for his guide the 
pure standard of morality. Here is his only safety. There can 
be no compromise between right and wrong ; least of all may 
he become, as we too often see, a political Iago. Otherwise, 
he must foster the prejudices of each party, his sentiments must 
harmonize with both, and he must be alternately the friend and 
the foe of each. This, to be sure, may be easily done ; for it 



246 

only requires that destitution of principle which is readily ob- 
tained in the school of politics. But, how to succeed in this 
deception, how to gain its objects, — Mc labor, hoc opus. Fail- 
ure must evidently be the end with most, as few only are suffi- 
ciently endowed to practise the necessary art and dissimulation. 
It has been wisely ordained, that the benevolent and noble princi- 
ples of our nature should be carried on with ease, like the work- 
ing of a well-made piece of machinery, or the rapid flowing of 
a stream from its fountain as long as it continues unobstructed ; 
while the exercise of the baser passions is thwarted by their 
own tendencies. They are like the sins which have been so 
often made the destruction of nations. They are a deformity 
of that pure Godlike nature, which, in man, constitutes the 
image of his Maker. Hence the difficulties attending every 
course of action which swerves from that of rectitude. 

" Ruined fortunes, as we have said, are likely to be the end 
of the hypocritical Statesman ; but what is the condition of his 
mind while he is in pursuit of them ? What tormenting fears 
must harass his soul in all his public speeches ! How difficult, 
how impossible to shape them so as to gratify each party and 
conceal their art and dissimulation ! What well-balanced flat- 
tery must be practised ; how skilfully the lying must be done ! 
How guarded, too, must be all his private conversation, lest 
some remark escape which may betray his insincerity ! 

" But this is a subject which requires an experience that we 
do not possess. The difficulties attending such a road to univer- 



247 

sal favor can be properly appreciated only by those who have 
travelled upon it, or have observed how often it has conducted 
others to disappointment or ruin. It is more agreeable to us, 
also, to regard the Statesman in another light, and under hap- 
pier auspices ; to see him winning favor from all, and maintain- 
ing his peace of mind and self-respect, by pursuing the simple 
course of integrity. "Whatever may be the violence of party 
spirit, however conflicting the opinions and desires of the differ- 
ent sections, there are many points, and probably the most im- 
portant, upon which all agree.* Now, we conceive that these 
are the ones for the Statesman, and if, at the same time, he dis- 
courage prejudice, and stand forth, not as the champion of a 
party, but the man of the nation, he will ride triumphantly 
over every obstacle, and find a shrine in every heart. The 
result in this case is as natural as in the other, for here operates 
the worthy and noble part of our nature. It is true, great deci- 
sion and firmness will be necessary to resist temptation, and the 
demands or the violence of party ; but the Statesman will rarely 
go wrong, or have much difficulty with the right, while he fol- 
lows the moral dictates of his own constitution. The highest 
order of courage may be sometimes demanded ; but then it 
gains a corresponding recompense. One follows the other with 
as much certainty as do the tides the sun and moon. 

" Thus we find, the world over, that honesty and straight- 
forwardness are generally the only means of obtaining prosper- 
ity and honor. It was this spirit that actuated the ' Pater 



248 

Patriae,' and that other great man, lately deceased, and when 
party spirit was raging with terrible violence, conducted him in 
triumph to the presidency. He was indeed the President, not 
of a party, but of the people. 

" Robert Troup Paine. 
" Harvard University, September 19, 1850." 



FORENSIC — ARTICLE XIX. 

" ' IN SELECTING STUDIES FOR THE JUNIOR AND SENIOR YEARS, IS IT 
WISE TO DROP LATIN AND GREEK IN ORDER TO ATTEND TO THE 
MODERN LANGUAGES?'* 

" This question is of peculiar interest at the period of Col- 
lege life to which we have now arrived. Ignorant of our future 
destinies, it now becomes our duty to select, as well as we may, 
certain studies that will be most likely to be useful to us here- 
after. The choice, as limited by the question before us, requires 
considerable reflection, and a careful examination and compari- 
son of the supposed advantages both of the ancient and modern 
languages. We shall, therefore, examine the subject in a gen- 
eral sense, and not with a reference to individual interests, or 
preferences. 

* During those years the Students have the privilege of choosing certain studies, 
which are accordingly known as " elective studies." The choice is made in the last 
term of the Sophomore year. 



249 

" Let us see, in the first place, if Latin and Greek are entitled 
to the degree of attention which they often receive, and whether 
the advantages he as great as many imagine. For this purpose 
we will view them in their connection with our own language ; 
then in their bearing upon the different professions and pursuits 
of life, particularly the scientific ; and finally as distinct lan- 
guages. 

" The advocates of Latin and Greek say that, inasmuch as 
they are the great foundation of our own language, a knowledge 
of them is necessary to a correct understanding of the mother 
tongue. Now, although it be true that many of our words are 
derived from the Latin, and many, too, from the Greek, there 
are a vast number which come from the German, French, and 
Spanish languages. But it will be said that these German, 
French, and Spanish words, from which similar words of ours 
are derived, are themselves obtained from Latin and Greek 
words. Grant that. But then we shall say, with equal truth, 
that those very Latin and Greek words, to which we owe many 
of ours, are borrowed, in their turn, from some more ancient 
languages. Thus many English words are just as much derived 
from the modern tongues as others are from the Latin and 
Greek. ¥e can say with as much truth that the German garten 
is the original of garden, as we can that phosphorus is derived 
from the Greek <pag and cptQtiv. 

" "We see, therefore, that the modern languages of Continen- 
tal Europe are probably as much the foundation of the English 



250 

as the Latin and Greek are, and that he who turns his attention 
to the former may have as good an opportunity, possibly better, 
to become acquainted with our etymology, as he who devotes 
himself to the latter. 

"Again, many of our words have a different signification 
from what we should infer from their ancient originals. The 
word transgression, for example, signifies according to its ety- 
mology to go over or across. But if I were to say I transgress- 
ed the Boston ferry, I think that the Latin Professor would 
laugh the loudest. The civil law is transgressed, but not by 
going over it, but by going against it, or coming short of it. 
The laws of humanity require us to save the life of a drowning 
man, except at very great peril of our own. But should a 
plunge for his rescue be made by one unacquainted with swim- 
ming, he would, in the literal signification of the word, trans- 
gress the laws of humanity, for he would be doing more than 
they require. But we should rather say that he transgressed, 
if, being an expert swimmer, he should refuse this necessary aid. 
Still, in this case, he falls short of the laws instead of going over 
them. The word virtue may, also, serve as an example. To 
use the word according to its derivative signification, we should 
call the slaughter of a thousand men ' with the jaw-bone of an 
ass' an act of virtue, because valor and courage are required. 
This, however, is ridiculous. But we would call the deed of 
the good Samaritan an act of virtue, of so great virtue, indeed, 
that all the world is told to 'go and do likewise.' From this 



251 

discrepancy between the derivative and the actual signification 
of many words, we learn at once that our understanding the 
import of words may be quite independent of a knowledge of 
their etymology. 

" We do not intend to discourage the study of the Latin 
and Greek languages. We know too well their importance in 
an intellectual sense, which is far greater than their etymologi- 
cal. We desire only a fair comparison, upon the latter ground, 
with the principal existing languages. Let us, then, consider 
still farther the fact that, where words have descended from 
ancient languages, we know their meaning before learning their 
derivation ; unless in the nomenclatures of science, or in ascer- 
taining the accuracy of such important translations as the Holy 
Scriptures. A multitude of examples might be shown to this 
effect, and where derivative words are perfectly understood 
without any knowledge of their origin. We think, too, that in 
this respect the ancient and modern languages are upon com- 
mon ground ; and while we do not deny the importance of the 
former to the scholar and literary man, we claim, if not an 
equal, a high degree of respect for the latter. They will all be 
greatly tributary to the accomplishments of mind, however they 
may not be greatly necessary to a correct understanding of the 
English language. And here, too, the distinction should be 
observed between what is properly meant by language and its 
purest diction. 

" The next branch of our subject concerns the different pro- 



252 

fessions and other pursuits which may be supposed to be more 
or less interested in a knowledge of the Latin and Greek 
languages. Here we find a still greater degree of importance 
attributed to them. But has it been with sufficient regard to 
the real merits of the subject? Has there not been too great a 
deference to habit and prejudice, too much to our respect for 
the past, and too little dependence upon ourselves, too little 
reference to the progress of knowledge and improvements, and 
too little to a change of circumstances ? In answering these 
questions, we should keep steadily in view that they relate to 
the languages as such, and do not extend to their bearing upon 
intellectual culture, which is quite another subject. 

" How is it, in the first place, with the Lawyer ? Does he 
go back to the Latin and Greek authorities for his guide, or 
even assistance % Certainly not. He must proceed according 
to the principles of law of our day, and not according to those 
which existed in the days of Cicero. What says his library I 
There is nothing there but English law and literature ; or if 
there be more, it is not the Greek and Latin authors, but those 
of modern France, and perhaps of Germany. So far as books 
are concerned, these are the ones by which he tries all his 
causes ; and the rest, which is often more important, he makes 
up by his own mind and general erudition. Here, however, we 
are coming upon what may be imparted by a large education, 
and if we were to go into its merits we should probably find 
that a knowledge of French, German, Spanish, and Italian, 



253 

especially the first two, would take a high rank in their compa- 
rison with Greek and Latin. Time was, when the latter yielded 
all the great classics ; but, in the march of society many and 
important additions have been made, both on the continent of 
Europe and in English literature. 

, " Perhaps something should be allowed for certain phrases 
borrowed by modern codes of law from the ancient ; and so 
long as they stand in their original garb, as they probably will 
on account of their brief and expressive nature, their meaning 
must be understood ; but this may be as easily acquired without 
a knowledge of Latin and Greek as the signification or import 
of English or any other words and phrases. 

" As to the Physician, his pursuits are far less artificial. He 
is abroad in the field of Nature, and Nature is his great autho- 
rity. But, it is said that Hippocrates, and Galen, and Celsus, 
are the fathers of the science, and have laid down important 
rules of practice, and that, therefore, their works must be read. 
This, doubtless, may be well enough ; perhaps should be done 
so far as they are accessible through an English translation. 
But is it necessary ? Is it not probable that what they have 
taught may be found in the works of modern writers? It is 
true, the fathers of medicine have been always celebrated for 
their accurate observation of Nature. But her book is equally 
open to all ; and if there be many who are not as able to read it, 
there should be help enough around them in the Masters of our 
own times. We suppose, however, that Medicine must require 



254 

a high order of inind to understand its principles and details, 
and to comprehend the many branches of science which are 
connected with it. We may be sure that it is here that learn- 
ing is most necessary, and that there cannot be too much of it. 
Suppose, then, that a knowledge of Greek and Latin be impor- 
tant for the sake of the ancient writers ; may it not be said with 
as much truth that the modern languages share equally in that 
importance % Have France and Germany done nothing for 
Medicine ? Have they not schools of distinguished reputation ? 
And how are they to be approached but through the languages 
in which their instruction is delivered ? 

" We shall say nothing now as to the supposed importance 
of Greek and Latin to a knowledge of the derivative terms 
employed in Medicine, and the writing of prescriptions. That 
we have partly disposed of when speaking of Law, and it will 
be considered farther in what we have yet to say of the Sciences 
in a general sense. 

" We come, therefore, next to the Clerical profession. The 
beautiful simplicity of all the doctrines in Religion and Morals 
would seem to preclude the necessity of any other language 
than that in which the Scriptures and modern commentaries 
may be most readily studied. Indeed, Christianity was carried 
over the whole known world, and may be said to have been 
virtually established by a few unlettered men, before the de- 
struction of Jerusalem ; and that, too, was done in the midst of 
the grossest ignorance and idolatry, and against the worst forms 



255 

of persecution. And did it derive any aid from Greece or 
Home ? The former was reposing upon its laurels from Homer 
downward ; the latter was at its zenith, with the names of 
Virgil, Horace, Cicero, Caesar, fresh before them. This assures 
us of the duties of the great mass of the Clerical profession ; 
and subsequent experience inclines us to think that Latin and 
Greek have done more for polemical divinity than for the good 
of mankind. Not, however, of necessity. "We grant it should 
have been otherwise. But what are the facts ? Here, too, are 
no scientific terms. There is nothing derivative but what is 
readily understood by the whole human family. You say, 
indeed, very justly, that we should look well to our translations 
of the Holy Scriptures, and that this cannot be done without 
a knowledge of languages even more ancient than Latin and 
Greek. But this should be the work of the gifted and labori- 
ous scholar. Great time and research are necessary for this. It 
may be said to be almost a profession in itself, and should be 
set apart for a few. The multitude should receive it upon trust 
as far surpassing any critical ability of their own, and employ 
themselves after the manner of Christ and his Disciples. There 
would be but little done for the great objects of the Church, 
and for the good of society, if all were to become Biblical 
critics. Still, we do not deny the advantages of scholarship 
here as every where else ; but we think it less essential than in 
the other professions, and that it has too often gone in pursuit 
of the letter rather than the spirit of the Word. The business 



256 



of this profession is to strive to attain, as far as possible, a 
resemblance to their great Pattern. 

" With regard to the Sciences, it is said that a knowledge of 
Latin and Greek enables us to understand the names and terms 
employed in them. This must be taken, also, in its connection 
with the professions ; though it is mostly confined to Medicine. 
There can be no doubt that there is considerable force in this. 
But, is it not, after all, a certain degree of facility afforded by 
this knowledge, rather than its necessity ? Do we not learn the 
derivative names and terms rather by usage, and by their appli- 
cation to things according to their own nature and meaning ? 
Or, in the same way as we learn the import of any new English 
word or term that is not derivative ? Do Latin or Greek teach 
us what is meant, in astronomy, by azimuth, altitude, parallax, 
gibbous ; or, in botany, the meaning of such terms as arachnoid 
and areolate, and a multitude of others ; or, in chemistry, should 
we know any better the meaning of chloride of sodium, or 
proto-chloride of mercury, or that the former is common salt 
and the latter calomel ? These examples may be taken as of 
universal application. To understand them, in any great extent, 
requires a study of the different sciences to which they belong. 
They must be studied in connection with the objects to which 
they are applied, mechanically, as it were, and we then learn 
their meaning just as we do the name of a horse or of any thing 
else. They then become to us equivalent to English names and 
terms. The same may be said of the modern languages. 



257 

" As it regards the relative value of Latin and Greek, and 
the modern languages, in the study of the sciences, the latter 
are more important to those who wish for accuracy, and to 
penetrate into the depths of science ; especially where precision 
is necessary, as in astronomy and chemistry. Here, doubtless, 
authors should be often read in the original language. 

" We proceed now to consider the study of Latin and Greek 
for their own sake. That these are noble languages, and in 
many respects very perfect, and that they abound with fine 
specimens of literature, we shall not for a moment dispute. 
This literature, its strength and refinement, are also best learnt 
from the originals. But we may also equally affirm that there 
are some modern tongues that can boast of stars of genius, 
whose literature is both highly instructive and amusing, and 
more so in the original tongue than in any translation. 

" There is one other ground which we have omitted, and 
which those on the opposite side (or perhaps we should rather 
say the zealots) are for ever bringing up ; the utility of Latin 
and Greek as an exercise for the mind. But is there not some 
prejudice as well as reason here ? Is there not too much a spirit 
of exclusion ? Is there no exercise of mind in the pursuit of 
the modern languages ? We think that the whole German class 
will attest the truth of our assertion, that we have already had 
some exercises that have tried our minds. There are, however, 
some other respects, intellectually considered, in which the Latin 
and Greek languages have an ascendency. Their elegance and 



258 

precision qualify us tetter to speak and to write our own 
language with accuracy ; but these are advantages which we 
will rather leave for our opponents to disclose. "We are most 
concerned about a fair estimate of the value of the principal 
modern languages ; and when we come to add to what has been 
already said in their behalf the very important consideration, 
that, during the three to five years that we pursued Latin and 
Greek before our connection with College, and the subsequent 
two years, we have obtained a sufficient knowledge of these 
languages to enable us to understand the etymology of most 
words which are derived from them, both in our language and 
the sciences, and that it is sufficient, also, to enable us to peruse 
the literature of the ancients for any purposes we may desire in 
after life ; and when, also, we add the other advantages of the 
modern languages, their being spoken at the present day, and 
their assistance in this respect in bringing us more into inter- 
course with the world, and increasing our interest in the affairs 
and welfare of other nations, and last, though by no means least, 
the degree in which they increase the pleasure and improvement 
to be derived from foreign travel ; when we come to add these 
considerations to the former, we can scarcely hesitate in select- 
ing the modern languages for our Junior and Senior Years, and 
leaving the Latin and Greek roots to thrive in the soil of our 

successors. 

" Eobeet Troup Paine. 

" Harvard University, November 1, 1849." 



259 



FOEENSIC — AETICLE XX. 

" ' WERE THE HOMERIC POEMS THE PRODUCTION OF A SINOLE MIND ? ' 

" In this question the burthen of proof must, of course, be 
on the negative side ; while it is only necessary for those on the 
positive to rebut the evidence of their adversaries. It is proba- 
bly evident enough that a poem, or any other production which 
goes under the name of one man, and has been received as his 
alone for centuries, must be regarded as the work of that man, 
unless proof can be shown that this opinion is false. The case 
is analogous to that of a criminal brought before a court of jus- 
tice. All that he has to do is to rebut the evidence brought 
against him. His innocence is a matter of course if his guilt be 
not established. 

" What, then, are the arguments which learned individuals 
of the nineteenth century bring against a point which was never 
doubted by the critical Greeks, the countrymen of Homer, and 
which has remained undisturbed ever since, embracing a period 
of more than two thousand years ? This naturally raises another 
preliminary question ; whether it be not more than probable, if 
there had been any substantial reasons against the point in ques- 
tion, they would have been brought forward by the ancients, 
who lived comparatively near to the time of Homer ? But, as 



260 

no such reasons were alleged until the beginning of the present 
century, we should strongly suspect that the late objections are 
not well founded. Let us see, however, whether they will bear 
examination. 

" The first and principal reason turns upon the point when 
the art of writing was known among the Greeks ; and it is con- 
tended that it was not understood at the time when Homer is 
supposed to have flourished. Now, what is the proof of this ? 
Is it not the merest conjecture ? Who shall say, or by what 
authority, that writing was not known to the Greeks as early as 
the tenth century before Christ ? Who can at all define the 
time when writing was invented by any people of high antiqui- 
ty ; since, especially, it seems to be almost as necessary and 
natural to man as speech itself ? But let us hear the objectors, 
who reason after the following manner : 

" ' When,' say they, ' it is considered that throughout the 
Homeric Poems, though they appear to embrace the whole cir- 
cle of knowledge then possessed by the Greeks, and enter into 
many details on the arts of life, only one ambiguous allusion 
occurs to any kind of writing, it is scarcely possible to avoid 
the conclusion, that the art, though known, was still in its infan- 
cy and was very rarely practised.' 

" If we reduce this reasoning to the form of a syllogism it 
will read thus : — 

" All the arts much noticed by Homer must have had con- 
siderable practice at the time of Homer ; the art of writing is 



261 

not mucli noticed by Homer ; therefore the art could not have 
been much practised at his time. This mode of reasoning is 
wholly repugnant to Aristotle's dictum, and has the fault to 
which Logicians give the name of illicit major. 

" But, as Homer supplies us with ample proof of considera- 
ble perfection in many arts, which, generally, are introduced, or 
at least brought to that degree of perfection long after the art 
of writing, and always show a state of advancement which sup- 
poses even a common practice of that art, the probabilities are 
certainly in favor of the supposition that the art was known for 
a considerable period before the time of Homer, and that at his 
time it had arrived to quite a degree of perfection. 

" If we now turn to Homer himself, we shall find a very 
forcible internal proof of the justice of our conclusion. For this 
purpose we will be content with the statement already quoted 
from our opponents, and from which they derive an exactly 
opposite inference to our own. We see, in that quotation, that 
Homer ' enters into many details on the arts of life, but makes 
only one ambiguous allusion to any kind of writing.' Now, 
since it was one of his objects to describe the useful arts, is not 
the conclusion unavoidable that, if writing were then in its in- 
fancy, with all the stupendous force of such a novelty, he would 
have dwelt upon it in greater detail than any other art ? But, 
again, the Poems were written at some age or other, and it 
should be plain enough that such Poems, surpassing all subse- 
quent times, could not have been written without great facili- 



262 



ties for such a purpose. The main argument of our opponents, 
therefore, can have no possible bearing upon the time when. 

" The foregoing probabilities will be greatly strengthened if 
we can show that the art of writing existed among other people 
as early as the fifteenth century before Christ, and can show, 
moreover, how the knowledge could have been imparted to the 
Greeks from that people, and can bring up tradition that it was 
so imparted. Now, we find it often affirmed in the Pentateuch, 
that Moses wrote these Books. Take, as examples in proof of 
this, Exodus 39, v. 30 ; Deuteronomy 10, v. 4 ; 27, v. 3 ; 28, v. 
58 ; 29, v. 20 ; 30, v. 10 ; 31, v. 9, 19, 22, 24, 26 ; Joshua 1, 
v. 8 ; 8, v. 31, 32. And that this was so is also sufficiently con- 
firmed by our Saviour, when he says, ' If tliey hear not Moses 
and the Prophets, neither will they he persuaded though one rose 
from the dead.'' And again, '■Had ye believed Moses, ye tooidd 
have believed me, for he wrote of me. JBid if ye believe not his 
writings, hcno shall ye believe my words f ' '■Moses wrote this 
precept ; ' &c. 

" But, perhaps there may be some who will not be ' per- 
suaded,' who will not ' believe.' This obliges us to return to 
our former argument as to the impossibility of assigning a 
period for the origin of writing among any people of remote 
antiquity, and the probability of its early invention among 
other useful arts. We shall pursue this inquiry, however, a 
little farther, as well for the sake of Moses as of Homer. 

" We must suppose that Moses, who was skilled in all the 



263 

learning of the Egyptians, derived Lis knowledge of writing 
from that people, or that he received it at the Hand of Inspira- 
tion. But, as the latter supposition would be a Legging of the 
question, we will adhere to the former ; otherwise, we might 
see no good reason for rejecting the idea that Moses received 
the knowledge of writing immediately from Heaven. It was 
from that quarter he is said to have received the whole law, 
and to have been commanded ' to write it in a book.' It is but 
reasonable, therefore, to suppose that Moses was provided with 
the necessaiy means ; and that they were Divinely imparted 
seems not improbable from the statement that the Ten Com- 
mandments were ' written by the finger of God.' The demotic 
alphabet may have been at first employed ; but another would 
be very likely to have grown out of it, -on account of what must 
have been the great disinclination of the Israelites to preserve 
any memorial of the past. Or who shall say that the Hebrew 
was not then a written language ? In about 400 years after 
the Exodus flourished David and Solomon, and it will not be 
doubted that the art of writing had grown old by their time. 
The only question, therefore, that may remain respects the time 
of the departure of Moses from Egypt ; but this, we think, is 
fully settled by the correspondence between the monumental 
authorities of Egypt and the calculations laid down in Scrip- 
ture. 

" Having sufficiently established these points, we may safely 
conclude that writing was well known before 1451 B. 0., which 



264 

the best received chronology fixes as the time of Moses' death. 
But, at any rate, Solomon's age would be sufficient for our pur- 
poses in regard to Homer ; and there can be no doubt that long 
before Solomon's time writing was well known at Tyre, which 
was a powerful commercial City in Phoenicia 1200 years before 
Christ. Suppose, however, that such a commerce and a corre- 
sponding advancement in other arts could have existed without 
a knowledge of writing, we may be quite sure that Solomon 
carried on a large commerce with that City, and hence deduce 
the certainty that he must have introduced letters among the 
Phoenicians. But this may be said to be rather a presumption 
than a fact ; so that we will now show by Scripture record, to 
which we think we are fully entitled, that writing was known at 
Tyre before Solomon's intercourse with that place. Thus, in 
2d Chronicles it is expressly stated, that ' Hiram, king of Tyre, 
answered in writmg? 

"Now, in following out this chain of evidence, we know 
that Cadmus, the founder of Thebes, was a Phoenician, and, 
moreover, there is a tradition that he introduced Letters into 
Greece ; the very quarter from which we should expect such an 
introduction, if writing were not already known to the Greeks. 
We know, also, that Cadmus lived some time before the very 
farthest period which is fixed for the existence of Homer. 

" But, it may be said that traditions are of no weight. 
Well, then, suppose we lay aside the tradition till we may show 
that it is of some value. It is, then, a matter of history that 



265 

Cadmus founded one of the principal cities of Greece, some 
1500 years B. C, that he was a Phoenician, and that the art 
of writing was known to that nation. Can we, then, enter- 
tain the opinion, that, while the Greeks were making rapid 
advancement in more difficult, although less important arts, 
they could have remained ignorant of the simple, hut all impor- 
tant one of writing ; especially as they had intercourse with, 
and partly derived their origin from, a nation among whom 
that art was well understood ? But, we do no such thing as 
to lay tradition aside ; for, although by itself it is of little 
worth, yet when brought in as a corroboration of an induc- 
tion from a long process of reasoning, it acquires a wonderful 
strength. 

" So far, then, as the art of writing is concerned, we can see 
no reason to suppose that what are called the Homeric Poems 
are not all the production of one man, even granting him to 
have lived as long ago as 900 years before Christ. But, while 
we have run extensively into this question, we Lave been, in the 
mean time, employed in considering others of greater impor- 
tance, which involve, along with our immediate subject, the 
authenticity of the Pentateuch, and the causes to which we may 
look for the origin of writing among any people. 

" Another argument brought up by our opponents is the 
want of unity in the Poems, and some incongruities which the 
critic has detected. But where is the work in which a want of 
unity, real or pretended, does not exist ? The complaining 



266 

atheist sits in judgment even upon the grand and beauteous 
Whole of Creation ! One of the incongruities in Homer, which 
is often cited, is the case of Palaeinenes, who is killed off in the 
fourth or fifth hook, and brought again to the scene of action in 
the tenth book. It is an incongruity, indeed ; but even were 
they numerous, they are not the kind of objections to be alleged 
against the supposed authorship of any work, especially so long 
a Poem as the Iliad. It was never doubted that the celebrated 
Don Quixote was written by one man ; and yet it contains 
defects of the same nature. Cervantes, for example, calls San- 
cho's wife, at one time, Mary Gutierrez, and only a few lines 
below Tereza Panza. In another instance, among the adven- 
turers in the Brown Mountain, at the top of the page he relates 
the ingenious abduction of Sancho's ass from under him, during 
the night, and at the bottom of the same page he represents 
Sancho setting off with his master, and riding upon the same 
ass. Other incongruities more glaring than these occur in this 
work of Cervantes, but which it is needless to mention. They 
are common in all dejjartments of literature ; so common, indeed, 
that contradictions may be detected on almost every page by a 
common observer. 

" It has been also said that, if such a man as Homer had 
ever lived, we should certainly have had some account of his 
life ; whereas, we have no record of his birth, or even of his 
existence. But, then, there was a man, or men, who wrote the 
Poems ; so it becomes a question merely whether his name was 



267 

Homer. The objection, however, will vanish when it is con- 
sidered that Shakspeare, who, although a man, 

' So near the gods that many cannot nearer go,' 

and although he lived nearly a century after the invention of 
printing, is still almost wholly unknown to us, except in his 
productions. And is it not, indeed, possible that what little is 
known of his history will be buried in oblivion long before 
Macbeth and Othello shall cease to be the admiration of the 
world ? If any thing shall be known of his life five centuries 
hence, it will be owing entirely to the art of printing. 

" We will conclude by examining the conjectures which are 
entertained concerning the Authors of the Homeric Poems. 
They are supposed by some to have consisted originally of sepa- 
rate parts, composed and sung by as many wandering bards, 
and, at last, were compiled by Pisistratus, or, perhaps by some 
one prior to him, and thus have been handed down to us. 
Others suppose that the Iliad and Odyssy, after the main event 
in each had formed the subject of a separate poem, grew under 
the hands of successive poets. 

" This brings us to the evidence afforded by the Poems 
themselves. Do they not in all their parts, all parts of the one, 
and all of the other, breathe the same great genius ? A genius 
which rarely honors mortal frames ! A genius of which no 
nation can boast more than two examples ! And are we to 
suppose that the Greeks abounded with this rare essence, that 



268 

they were blessed with, a troop of men possessed of this hea- 
venly treasure ? For such, indeed, must be admitted if it be 
supposed that the Homeric Poems had a multiplicity of au- 
thors. 

" Robert Troup Paine. 

" Harvard University, April 25, 1850." 



THESIS — ARTICLE XXI. 

" ' THE NILE.' 

After having stated the opinions of the ancients as to this 
river, and described its overflowing, &c, he proceeds : 

" Such are some of the wonderful effects of the inundation 
of the Nile. How delightful to the curious traveller, after 
having laboriously gained the top of one of the proudest monu- 
ments of art, to look out upon one of the most beautiful scenes 
in nature. There lies stretched before him, at one time, an 
extensive sea, with numberless villages and groves of fruit-trees 
peeping above the surface ; or, at another time, he looks down 
upon vast fields and meadows, some of them overspread with a 
carpet of emerald color, and richly embroidered with flowers of 
every hue, others nodding their yellow grain to the breeze, 
while others still are shaded by the foliage of the orange and 
lemon trees, whose blossoms load every zephyr with fragrance. 



269 

Again, numerous herds of cattle, and gatherings of merry hus- 
bandmen, seek these spots as a cool retreat from the noonday 
sun, and impart animation to the scene. 

" Nor does the story of the Nile end here ; for it connects 
itself with the religion, the warfare, the commerce, and the 
learning of the Egyptians. All this is immediate with them, 
but perhaps more or less remotely with all subsequent nations ; 
for, if every individual live for good or for evil, is it not highly 
probable that the achievements of such a mighty and learned 
people must have exercised an influence upon the human race 
which will be felt to the end of time, even though there shall 
have been lost all power of tracing it ? As in a river, which, 
starting with a small stream, gradually enlarges with the acqui- 
sition of the waters of other rivulets until it finally swells to a 
torrent, the effects, or I should rather say the influence, of the 
remotest contribution is felt at its mouth, although we may be 
able to trace the separate current for only a short distance ? So 
of all time, which rolls onward and onward, mingling with the 
different currents of events that daily flow into it, the influence 
of the remotest current, though not distinguishable from that of 
thousands of others, must yet be felt until the main stream is 
swallowed up in the ocean of eternity. 

" We naturally look for learning in those places where the 
inhabitants are not obliged to toil incessantly for their means of 
living ; and as the soil of no country yields its increase with 
greater facility, or more abundantly, than Egypt, we accordingly 



270 

find that it was once the seat of a very powerful and learned 
nation, the proofs of which, as they now exist in the monuments 
that have come down to us, are sufficient to convince those who 
lay aside the many contained in Holy Writ. 

" It may be asked, why has Egypt ceased to he the foster- 
land of learning ? Looking at the history of the instrumentality 
of Providence in regard to the Jews, especially in its connection 
with the Egyptians, we might say that it is because the wrath 
of God rests upon the land in consequence of the ill treatment 
of His chosen people, for, ' surely at the Commandment of the 
Lord came this upon ' Egypt as well as ' upon Judah.' But it 
seems to us, that the rise, progress, and decline of learning 
among the Egyptians, and what we see in other nations, is all of 
a piece, and that there is no particular need of attributing this 
case to any special intervention of Supernatural Power. Learn- 
ing is like the being who acquires it. It first hath its embryo, 
then its ' seven ages,' the last of which 

' Is second childishness and mere oblivion.' 

" But, if we place the decline of learning in Egypt upon 
the common ground of other nations, we may learn from the 
analogy supplied by the Sacred Record of events which must 
have been among the principal causes, that an Overruling Pro- 
vidence is equally concerned in other cases, however the whole 
may seem to have been the result only of natural laws. God is 
every where, and it is as unphilosophical as it is against Revela- 



271 

tion to suppose that He ever leaves His second causes to their 
own independent operation. 

" Robert Troup Paine. 
" Harvard University, April 14, 1849." 



FORENSIC — AETICLE XX. 

" ' WHETHER THE INTERESTS OF TRUTH AND VIRTUE WOULD BE PRO- 
MOTED BY SO FAR RESTRICTING THE FREEDOM OF THE PRESS AS 
TO PREVENT ANONYMOUS PUBLICATIONS?' 

" In discussing this question there are two ways in which we 
may look at it. We may regard it absolutely, or relatively ; 
or, perhaps, I should rather say theoretically and practically. 

" In considering it theoretically, we have only to estimate 
the amount of benefit and injury resulting directly to the cause 
of truth and virtue from anonymous publications, and make up 
our mind according to which preponderates. 

" We may reckon, in the first place, detraction, vilification, 
as one of the worst evils. How frequent, that the character 
of the innocent and virtuous is assailed, and even wounded, by 
this disgraceful weapon ! Our newspapers are daily more or 
less devoted to writings of this kind, where some one is made a 
victim either from private pique or political hostility. Now, 
with this fact alone before us, it can scarcely need an argument 



272 

to show that the tendency of disowning a publication, (by which 
we include all printed articles), must be highly detrimental to 
truth and virtue. Why does an unexceptionable writer thus 
disown his opinions ? It may be sometimes from fear of con- 
troversy or assault, or from diffidence or modesty. Why then 
encourage this dangerous practice by writing at all ? But why 
are the personal and political articles to which we refer sent 
into the world without a responsible name ? Plainly, from the 
respect which the writer has for his own character. But why 
should a man fear for himself who has truth and virtue on his 
own side ? Certainly no one does. It is the consciousness, then, 
that these are not in his ranks which forms the very ground- 
work of the fear which prompts his concealment. 

"Another objection, with many, to anonymous publications, 
is the opportunity which they afford of diffusing vulgarity and 
licentiousness. That this is a fact is beyond question ; and from 
what we have already said, it may be supposed that we should 
be a strong objector for this reason. But we think it a difficult 
matter to decide precisely what their ultimate effect may be 
upon the cause of virtue. On the one hand, it appears to us 
that few mistakes are greater than the rigorous course which 
some would pursue from a stern and forbidding sense of mod- 
esty ; as exemplified in expurgating (as it is called) some of 
the text-books used in schools and colleges, or in parents with- 
holding from their children some plays of Shakspeare, or certain 
portions of Milton, and in the wish entertained by many of 



273 

expurgating even the Bible. Their intention, we grant, is laud- 
able, though in respect to the Holy Scriptures there may be a 
mingling of sectarian interest. Nothing can be more Divine 
than to purify the thoughts, and to thus suppress the licentious 
and injurious habits which are too common among the young of 
both sexes. But may it not be asked, whether the critics are 
not defeating their object by the very course they adopt ? 
Whether the very omission of the exceptionable passages, the 
very restraint practised towards the young, does not serve to 
turn their attention into the very channel from which it is 
sought to divert it ? Many a passage in Horace which is omit- 
ted in the common text-books would have been read, as we 
think, without producing any impression except, perhaps, of 
disgust, but which has, by the attention being thus drawn to it, 
been hunted up, and gloated over in the studio. The imagina- 
tion has thus become fired, and the final result has been an 
obtuseness of moral feeling and the establishment of those 
habits which waste the powers of manhood. The case is liable 
to be even more dangerous in respect to the Bible ; for here, 
just in proportion as the reader may turn aside to seek for what 
is expunged or modified, he will be apt to lose his regard for 
Beligion ; and here curiosity would be greatest. Such omissions 
or changes would look, also, like distrust of the Word itself; 
and the same principle at work in this as in the former case 
would thus acquire an additional effect, and infuse its poison 
more deeply. May it not, indeed, be a subject of fair doubt 



274 

whether sin would have entered the world had it not been for- 
bidden ? Was it not originally a simple impulse of curiosity ? 

" Such, on the one hand. On the other, may it not be asked 
whether the evil here referred to may not most effectually cure 
itself ? whether writings that are truly licentious have not, in 
reality, an opposite effect to what many suppose, by creating 
disgust and a longing after those of purity and elevation of 
thought ? Consult the diary of the physician, and see whether 
the lamentable cases of disease arising from licentious habits be 
not much more frequent among those who have been educated 
under the supposed restrictions, than among those who have 
not. But, while we contend that anonymous publications of 
licentious and vulgar writings are not as injurious to the cause 
of virtue as many suppose, we would by no means intimate that 
they are necessary to its advancement ; for there is enough 
which is not anonymous which is sure to create a disgust in the 
mind of youth, providing no pains be taken to keep it from 
them. But a difference will arise between the anonymous and 
the acknowledged work, according as the latter may come 
recommended by the name of its author. 

" We have thus looked at the world as it is, without con- 
sidering its plain duty and interest that it should be otherwise. 
We have touched upon one of the highest questions in morals, 
and have written as our mind considers the subject in its 
youth. 

" On the other side of our main question it is argued, that 



275 

in prohibiting anonymous publications we should silence many 
writers who come out against false and erroneous doctrines, or 
to correct misrepresentations and false constructions. It is true 
that many, who thus lend their pen to the cause of truth, prefer 
to remain unknown, and our chief objection is the encourage- 
ment which is thus afforded to anonymous writers of less wor- 
thy motives. But do they make it a necessary condition that 
they will withhold their productions unless they be permitted 
to publish them without signature ? Is it not merely a prefer- 
ence they give to that mode which induces them to appear 
anonymously ? We think it is only a preference ; for surely no 
one who is the real champion of truth can be ashamed of his 
cause. But, it is replied, although such is not his reason, he 
may be distrustful of his ability to defend it. To this we 
answer that we want bold champions, those that will present 
themselves night and morning, and defy the armies of their 
adversaries. In the moral warfare, as well as in civil, we want 
picked men. Let the chicken-hearted and faint-hearted retire 
to their homes. 

"It sometimes happens, that, in order to give the effect 
intended to the argument, it is necessary that the publication 
should be anonymous. This is the case with many ironical 
writings, where the appearance of the author's name would 
completely destroy the ironical character. An instance may be 
seen in a pamphlet containing historic doubts concerning the 
existence of Napoleon, ' published,' as the author says in another 



276 

work, ' anonymously merely for the preservation of its ironical 
character.' In such cases, the prohibition of anonymous publi- 
cations would, indeed, defeat the object of the writer, and, what 
should be more regretted, it would deprive us of such contribu- 
tions to the cause of truth. But, it should be borne in mind 
that such instances are comparatively rare, and that even where 
such a style is employed, the cause of truth might have been 
equally well defended in some other way which does not require 
a concealment of the author's name. Besides, it may be a sub- 
ject for consideration whether we should not gain more than we 
should lose by the method we suggest, as the ironical style is 
as often employed as the channel of error and sophistry as of 
truth. 

" So far as we have now gone, the balance, with one excep- 
tion, seems not to incline much to either side of our question. 
That exception is the liability of an innocent and virtuous per- 
son to be attacked and wounded by defamation (the cowardly 
weapon of anonymous writers), and we cannot, therefore, but 
wish, theoretically speaking, that publications of an anonymous 
nature should be prohibited. 

" Looking at the subject practically, we have not merely to 
consider the amount of benefit or injury resulting directly to the 
cause of truth and virtue, but also indirectly. We have many 
collateral circumstances and effects to bear in mind. It is, how- 
ever, within the limits of our time to examine only a few of the 
principal. 



277 

" Suppose the publication of anonymous writings were pro- 
hibited by law, what is to prevent any one from writing under 
an assumed name ? How is it to be ascertained that the name 
is not the real one of the author ? But, it being essentially the 
same thing whether an author writes under an assumed name, 
or anonymously, the laws are, of course, . evaded. Now, when- 
ever laws are passed which are easily violated, we think that 
by thus bringing the majesty of the law into contempt or ridi- 
cule, a severe shock is given to the progress of truth and virtue ; 
not that we agree with our standard authority, Mr. Whewell, 
in thinking the law gives a moral signification to actions, but 
that it serves to restrain many from the commission of offences 
who would not be deterred by the rules of morality. What we 
contend for is, that, as the general force of the law is lessened 
in proportion as it is violated with impunity, and in proportion 
to that failure of the law to maintain respect for itself, our land 
will become the seat of vice and crime, and, therefore, any par- 
ticular prohibition that tends, by its own impracticable nature, 
to lessen the general regard for law is so far prejudicial to the 
interests of truth and virtue. 

" But again ; the prohibition of anonymous publications 
must not be regarded alone as such. It must be considered 
also as a precedent ; one, too, of a most dangerous nature, a pre- 
cedent of infringing the liberty of the press. Our opponents, 
however, may say, "We do not ask for any farther restriction. 
But, will the force of our principle admit even of this ? We 



278 

should remember how prone mankind are, when a thing is once 
commenced, to push it continually, little by little ; so that many 
things, which in themselves are desirable, are to be shrunk from 
with fear or dismay when viewed as precedents. Suppose, for 
example, the liberty of the press should be so far restricted as 
to prohibit anonymous publications ; no sooner would this law 
be passed than another party might spring up and demand some 
farther restriction, and, in process of time, upon the strength of 
the precedent, and the effect of habit, carry their measure. 
Thus it is clear that, by degrees, the last spark of liberty might 
be extinguished. The effect of this upon truth and virtue we 
shall leave to be imagined. We may say, indeed, that tlna 
ought not to be so ; but we must take the world as it is. With 
this danger, then, staring us in the face, and the great evils 
which must flow from every restraint which has a tendency to 
bring the law into ridicule or contempt, we say, God save the 
liberty of the press uninfringed ! 

" Robert Teoup Paine. 
" Harvard University, October 25, 1850." 



279 



FOEENSIC — AETICLE XXIII. 

" ' SHOULD THE FREE STATES, EST DELIVERING UP FUGITIVE SLAVES, 
SECURE TO THEM THE RIGHT OF THE "WRIT OF HABEAS CORPUS, 
AND TRIAL BT JURY ? ' 

" In conceding it to be the duty of the Free States to deliver 
up fugitive slaves, as enjoined by the national constitution, let 
us see — 

"First, what rights the Free States can avail themselves of 
in discharging this duty, consistently with the general com- 
pact ; and 

" Secondly, let us consider the policy of exercising those 
rights. 

" As the several States, individually, enjoy the right of legis- 
lation in all respects that are not interdicted by the Constitu- 
tion of the Union, we must look to this instrument for the com- 
pact or law by which we are bound to surrender fugitive slaves 
to their owners. The Constitution says, that, ■ no person held 
to service or labor in one State, under the laws thereof, escap- 
ing into another, shall, in consequence of any law or regu- 
lation therein, be discharged from such service or labor, but 
shall be delivered up on claim of the party to whom such ser- 
vice or labor may be due.' — Words so plain that ' he who runs 



280 

may read,' and not only so, but understand. They direct that 
fugitive slaves ' shall be delivered up,' in spite ' of any law or 
regulation ' of the State to which they may flee. It is equally 
manifest, also, that Congress may enforce this provision by any 
laws not incompatible with other provisions ; for where it may 
exercise the right of action in one case, it is no less bound by 
the restraints imposed in all other cases. It is another principle, 
also, that what is not prohibited to the individual States by the 
Constitution may be freely exercised by them. 

" Now, in the provision before us there is nothing which 
directs the manner in which the fugitives shall be delivered up ; 
though it is certainly competent for Congress to enact any law 
for the purpose which may not conflict with the compact itself. 
In other words, there can be no legislation by Congress which 
interferes with the rights reserved by the Constitution, either 
directly or indirectly, to the States, or to individuals. 

" It appears, then, that it is unconstitutional only for a State 
to refuse to deliver up fugitive slaves ; and, so far as the clause 
which we have quoted goes, it is not unconstitutional for a State 
to require or not to require a writ of liaheas corpus, or trial by 
jury, before such delivery. But, according to another clause it 
would seem that it is unconstitutional to deliver up any person 
without allowing the writ. The clause is this. ' The privilege 
of the writ of habeas corpus shall not be suspended, unless when 
in cases of rebellion or invasion the public safety may require 
it.' There is no obscurity here ; and we can see no reason why 



281 

the injunction is not even more applicable to the case of fugitive 
slaves than to criminal cases, nor why it should not be more 
rigidly adopted in the former than the latter case. Injustice, 
from false pretences, is certainly much more likely to occur in 
relation to slaves, for the temptation is much greater. It is no 
exaggerated estimate to state the proportion as one to a hun- 
dred. But, however this may be, it cannot be doubted that 
the privilege of the habeas corpus is far more useful, far more 
essential in the case of fugitive slaves than of fugitive criminals. 
Our last citation, also, can leave no doubt, that it is not only 
constitutional for a State to exercise the right in surrendering 
slaves, but that it is unconstitutional not to do so. But should 
a State disregard the clause last quoted, there is nothing what- 
ever in the Constitution which prohibits the exercise of the 
privilege in the case before us. 

" Again, every State has not only a right to make any law 
or regulation which is not contrary to the Constitution, but it 
enjoys the right wherever the Constitution is silent upon the 
subject. 'The powers,' says that instrument, 'not delegated to 
the United States by the Constitution, nor prohibited by it to 
the States, are reserved to the States respectively, or to the 
people. 1 

"As it regards the trial by jury, we cannot say that there is 
any clause in the Constitution which enjoins it in delivering up 
either a criminal or a slave ; but there is certainly none pro- 
hibiting it. Having settled this point, before proceeding farther 



282 

with it, we must be careful not to fall into the mistake of sup- 
posing that the individual States have a right to defeat the 
Constitution, or any consistent law of Congress founded upon it, 
by neglecting the privilege which is reserved to them by the 
Constitution ; for, in such a case, the United States, through 
their Executive, could proceed to seize upon the fugitive in a 
summary manner. 

" Now, the words of the Constitution are, that the supposed 
fugitive ' shall be delivered up on claim of the party,' <fcc. ; that 
is to say, according to the preceding part of the clause, shall be 
delivered up by the State into which the fugitive may have 
escaped. Here, then, it is clearly enjoined upon the States to 
act in the premises, and it is no part of the duty of Congress to 
interfere, nor has it a right to interfere till a State neglects the 
injunction of the Constitution. And, since the State must take 
some action in the case, it is absurd to suppose that a law must 
exist upon its statute-books requiring a surrender of every indi- 
vidual against whom an offence may be charged, without all 
the inquiry that may be necessary to the full protection of inno- 
cence. Indeed, a State which should neglect this obvious pre- 
caution would be an offender not only against the privilege of 
the habeas corpus, at least, but certainly, also, against the com- 
mon laws of humanity. The important point should be also 
kept steadily in view, that the Constitution does not invest 
Congress with the power of interfering, but, that it not only 
expressly delegates it as a right to the individual States to legis- 



283 

late upon the subject, but enjoins its exercise upon them as a 
duty. 

" We have thus endeavored to bring this mooted question 
to its simple merits. We see that a Law of the United States, 
or an act of the Executive, may be perfectly constitutional for 
one State, and as unconstitutional for another State. Whatever 
be the object, it is, according to the Constitution, only a law, or 
an act, of coercion towards a delinquent State ; and so far it is 
just. But, on the other hand, it is unconstitutional and oppres- 
sive towards a State which has provided for the clause requiring 
the States to deliver up fugitives from service. 

" This brings us to a farther consideration of the question 
as to what are the rights of the States in fulfilling the duty im- 
posed upon them by the Constitution. These rights, as we 
have seen, are either defined or tacitly yielded ; and, according 
to our premises a State may or may not require an examination 
before a Justice. This is the simplest view of the case ; and, if 
the law of the land require such an examination, it will not be 
objected that a State may, at least, do the same when it assumes 
the duty enjoined upon it by the Constitution. 

" Now, therefore, if a State possess that indisputable right, 
why not, also, the right of directing its examinations by jury ? 
The former is no more enjoined by the Constitution than the 
latter, and the latter no more prohibited than the former. Why 
may we not assume like premises, in the case of trial by jury 
before delivering fugitive slaves, and from these premises, by 



284 

parity of reason, arrive at like conclusions ? Then, having 
shown that a State may make any regulation or appoint any 
process of law not incompatible with the Constitution of the 
United States ; and there being nothing in this Constitution 
which is opposed to a trial by jury before delivering up fugi- 
tive slaves, the conclusion is, that every State has the right to 
require a previous trial by jury. The premises are certainly 
undeniable, and it appears to us that our conclusion is unavoid- 
able. 

" But, supposing the United States should authorize a trial 
by jury; it would still be a violation of the rights of the indi- 
vidual States. This, however, would probably give satisfaction ; 
and, theoretically considered, we think it would be the better 
system. But, the objection that it would not be in conformity 
with the Constitution is conclusive against it. 

" Having now shown that the free States have a rio-ht to 
require a trial by jury in the case of delivering up fugitive 
slaves, and that they not only have a right to require the writ 
of habeas corpus, but are forbidden by the Constitution to dis- 
pense with it, we proceed to the consideration of the second 
point, — the policy of exercising this right. 

" We shall cease all discussion relative to the writ of habeas 
corpus, as we believe it to be an obligation, and shall confine 
ourselves to trial by jury, which is optional with every State. 

" As the writ of habeas corpus is calculated to prevent, in 
some measure, acts of injustice, by compelling the party claim- 



285 

ing a criminal or a slave to appear before a magistrate and pre- 
sent his claim, so trial by jury affords a more effectual preven- 
tive, by securing a due consideration of those claims, and pro- 
viding against those cases where the magistrate is liable to 
mistake from complexity or obscurity of proof, or open to 
bribery, or may be overbearing, or influenced by prejudice. 
The principle, so far as State or individual rights are concerned, 
is exactly the same in both the cases ; though, so far as justice 
is interested, it gives a great preponderance to the right of trial 
by jury. 

" Here, however, we are met by the objection that a trial 
by jury in the State to which the fugitive escapes, would be 
useless, inasmuch as that is provided for him by the State to 
which he is to be returned, and that we must suppose that jus- 
tice will obtain in all the cases. 

" But our opponents are here leaping over the threshold of 
the question. This is equivalent to denying the right of trial 
in the State to which the fugitive escapes, and which we have 
established as a matter even of duty. We are willing to admit, 
however, that justice may be done in the courts of the State 
from which the fugitive escaped ; but what security is there, 
with the balance of probabilities so greatly against the rights of 
a degraded freeman charged with the crime of having lost his 
liberty, that the reputed master, or a slave State, will perform 
their obligations to so helpless and abject a being ? Who is 
there, we say, in a slave State to bring his case into court and 



286 

assist him to prove his freedom ? Certainly not the master ; 
and whatever be the humanity of the less interested, it is too 
swayed by interest, prejudice, habits, and by the very nature of 
the '■peculiar institution^ to be active enough for the exigencies 
of such a case. There will be ' none so poor as do ' the forlorn 
negro so plain an act of justice. His case is hopeless, from the 
nature of things, when he loses the safeguard provided by the 
Constitution. Let those who are not inclined to reason from 
our premises, look at South Carolina, and see her imprisoning 
free colored people who may be transiently visiting her soil 
from other quarters, nay, seizing them from the vessels while 
they float in her harbor, and in direct opposition to the Consti- 
tution, which provides that ' the citizens of each State shall be 
entitled to all the privileges and immunities of citizens in the 
several States.' Or, if this be not a sufficient index to our prin- 
ciple, consider, then, the treatment bestowed upon a respectable 
delegate from Massachusetts, Mr. Hoar, who was duly authorized 
by law to seek redress in the Courts of South Carolina for the 
wrongs done to the colored citizens of Massachusetts. Was 
there any willingness manifested to indulge him in the object of 
his mission ? Mr. Hoar, on the contrary, was obliged to flee the 
State from fear of assassination, so great and general was the 
outcry against him. There the matter ended, and South Caro- 
lina triumphed. We shall draw no farther inferences, unless it 
be to point to the ascendency which the spirit of slavery has 
obtained even over the free States. 



287 

" We might now go on. to suppose that the contrary of all 
this may happen ; that the fugitive may be permitted to have 
his case examined. But here we should meet with new difficul- 
ties, and not less fatal. Though a free man, snatched away 
from his family hearth, or at best surrendered under the cold 
formalities and doubtful integrity of an United States' official 
examination, he is still the forlorn and helpless negro. He is 
soon far removed from kindred and home, in the midst of 
strangers, who, if they throw open their doors of justice to him, 
give him neither sympathy nor help. Where will be his wit- 
nesses to his freedom, and where his money to procure their 
attendance or to fee his lawyer ? What security will he have 
against perjured witnesses, such even as may swear at the com- 
mand of a master ? Who that knows any thing of Courts in the 
freest States does not know how easily and how often witnesses 
are found for any occasion? Or, should some rare justice or 
accident gain the supposed fugitive his liberty, where are his 
means for returning to his distant home, or what security has he 
that he will not be kidnapped again before he is a dozen miles 
on his way ? Or, should he remain, and in possession of his free- 
dom, upon the soil of slavery, how would it benefit him where 
he would exist upon a level with the slave, and where there are 
but few who would ' give him leave to work V 

" But think not of the individuals themselves only. Think 
of the lacerated hearts of bereaved wives and helpless children, 
who depended for their support upon the daily earnings of a 



288 

colored, but affectionate husband and father ! Scenes at which 
humanity shudders ! Scenes which must bring down the wrath 
of HQm with whom is no distinction of persons ! Scenes which 
make a mockery of freedom and equality, of which we profess 
our country is the blissful abode ! 

" The remedy for the evils of inj ustice exists in the Consti- 
tution of the United States. But here we are met with an 
excuse for its violation like the plea which we have just offered 
in behalf of the supposed fugitive. It is said that, as the bur- 
den of proof would he upon the pretended master, many slave- 
holders would be deterred from making application for their 
fugitives, or, if they do not, will be often unsuccessful in proving 
their identity, from the expense and difficulties of obtaining 
such witnesses as will satisfy a jury. But this can form no ob- 
jection whatever, if we put the Constitution out of the question ; 
for the fundamental principle of all just law is, that the accused 
shall be considered innocent of the thing charged until it is 
proved upon him. This is only a difficulty to which all are 
liable in their common transactions, and must be borne for the 
proper ends of justice. 

" But we now come to what is more like an objection, and 
of more serious aspect. It is, that, on account of the prevailing 
views of the people of the free States in opposition to slavery, 
every supposed fugitive would be tried before a prejudiced jury, 
and their verdict would be rendered more in accordance with 
their principles than with the evidence in the case. We grant 



289 

that this would sometimes be the case. We believe it to be im- 
possible that it should be otherwise, for it would be contrary to 
human nature. But is it not clear, from what we have shown, 
that far greater injustice would be done if the supposed fugitive 
were consigned to the captor, and with little certainty of a 
trial by jury, or, at best, in a State whose chief interest lies in 
the institution of slavery ? Let us also ask ourselves, let us ask 
humanity, whether opportunity should be given for such of- 
fences, such heart-rending scenes as we have imagined, and 
not without great probability, or whether it be not better that 
a slave-holder should now and then fail of his rights ? Nay, 
whether it be not better that ten slaves should go free than one 
freeman be made a slave ? Then, too, we should take into con- 
sideration that it is from the cruel, tyrannical master that the 
slave is more apt to flee ; for his condition is so degraded that 
he prefers to serve the humane and merciful master, rejecting 
even his offered freedom in words of childish dependence. 

" What should be done by the people when Congress may 
enact laws in opposition to the Constitution of the United States 
may ultimately become a question of very grave importance. 
The obvious means of redress, in the first instance, lies in the 
Supreme Court of the land. There may be wanting the means 
of bringing the subject before that tribunal ; but we may sup- 
pose that any State who feels its rights and dignity violated, 
will be readily disposed to seek restitution, or that there will 
be many sufficiently alive to humanity to carry out such a work 



290 

of justice and benevolence. But here, again, the question is of 
such vast importance in the estimation of the free and slave 
States, and they are so entirely at issue, that the highest Court 
may deem it their duty to give the same construction to the 
Constitution as had been already done by the three branches of 
Congress, rather than incur the risk of convulsing the Union by 
setting aside a national decree that looks, on the one hand, to a 
just preservation of the great institution of the Southern States, 
and, on the other, to a fulfilment, though by a mistaken process, 
of an important provision of the Constitution. We would not, 
for a moment, question the integrity of this enlightened and 
independent Bench ; but we may suppose that their patriotism 
may incline them to act in concert with Congress where the 
aim has been the settlement of a great national trouble. The 
question before them will involve the Constitution and justice 
on one side, and the peace of the country on the other. It will 
be whether the first shall be violated, or the latter endangered. 
In the mean time, and what is more important, the people will 
still have the subject in their own hands. This is the great 
advantage of a Republic like ours. The question may come 
before the people at any successive election. In this way they 
may soon erase any unconstitutional law. The probabilities will 
be strongly against its continuance long, especially if it should 
be found to produce the evils which we have imagined. There 
will be likely to be always a preponderance of votes in behalf 
of freedom and of the Constitution ; and should any persecu- 



291 

tion of the Blacks grow out of the law, we need not doubt 
that it will awaken the humanity of the free portion of the 
nation. 

" Robert Troup Paine. 

" Harvard University, June 27, 1850." 



THESIS — ARTICLE XXIV. 

" 'men of the world, who have their portion in this life.' 
' the psalmist's idea of a man of the world and ours.' 

" The words of our subject occur in the 14th verse of the 
17th Psalm. ' From men of the world, which have their portion 
in this life, and whose belly Thou fillest with Thy hid treasure ; 
they are full of children, and leave the rest of their substance to 
their babes.' 

" David, and his son Solomon, were two of the most remark- 
able men of whom we have any knowledge. No characters are 
more consistently drawn, both by themselves and others. We 
see in each the forbearance of God according to the circum- 
stances with which He surrounds mankind, that He judges our 
habitual motives, and has compassion upon the infirmities of our 
nature. All this is wonderfully exemplified in these two indi- 
viduals ; and we may carry out the principle which is involved 



292 

in our several premises. Although mightily endowed with 
genius and wisdom, and having direct communication with 
God, they lived at a rude age and among a licentious people. 
They appear, moreover, to have been unusually sensual in their 
nature ; so much so as to have led both of them to adultery, 
and one of them to murder, and the other to idolatry. This 
was owing, in part, also, to the times ; and these two were prin- 
cipal elements in the Psalmist's estimate of a man of the world. 
He seemed to have reasoned as well from his own consciousness 
as from what he saw around him, and the revelations which he 
received went, also, to make up his views of the worldly man. 
This would appear, too, from his general comments upon the 
wickedness of his times. His man of the world, therefore, was 
a man of sin, and the enmity of others towards himself formed 
no small part of the sinfulness which he attributed to them. It 
was human nature in many of its worst conditions. But what 
is remarkable is the apparent fact that David should have made 
himself so much the standard, when he often intimates that he 
is free from the guilt which he charges upon others. He was a 
man, however, of great sensibility, and the enmity of his foes, 
which he laments so much, being a judgment upon him, was 
sorely felt ; and this, along with his actual consciousness of 
heavy sins, gives a strong coloring to his man of the world. 
" But, language, and all forms of expression, share the com- 
mon fate of all things else, — change, and with this change, a 
change of ideas. What the Romans understood by pietas and 



293 

virtus, is not implied in our piety and virtue. - So, also, many 
words and combinations of words have entirely different signifi- 
cations at the present day from what they had in the days of 
Chaucer and Spenser. It is not surprising, then, that we should 
find a great discrepancy between David's ideas of a man of the 
world and our ideas of the same. Our man of the world is a 
far nobler being ; not, however, necessarily a man of piety, 
though he has some sense of Religion and more so of moral 
obligations. But he is no hypocrite. In another sense of the 
word, he is a man of business, not only in name, but in reality. 
No idle hours hang about him. He has none for the gambling- 
room and the house of revelling, and he makes no ' long pray- 
ers.' No, he is all energy, all activity. He ' forms schemes of 
wealth and power, and pushes them night and day,' and when 
he is gone, ' the world is wiser and better for his having lived 
in it.' 

" In another acceptation, ' man of the world ' signifies one 
who has seen the world ; one whose ideas are not confined to 
what he sees in the place of his nativity. His idea of river 
extends beyond the small stream which rumbles by his father's 
mansion, for his feet have trod the hanks of the Amazon, the 
Mississippi, and the Rhine. His idea of mountain is not bound- 
ed by the sunny hill that forms the pasture for his father's 
sheep ; for he has visited the Alps, the Andes, and the Hima- 
layas. His views of happiness are not confined to the mode of 
life pursued by those around him ; for he has made acquaintance 



294 

with the lazy African, the industrious American, the wealthy 
Englishman, and the poor Laplander ; and it is his happiness to 
see that they all alike bespeak the Beneficence of the Creator 
in adapting the whole to the circumstances which surround 
them. His Religion is free from bigotry, generally inclines to 
no sect, and is charitable towards all people. He supposes that 
all Eeligions are based upon one grand foundation, however 
great may be the errors of ignorance and superstition. He 
considers it essentially the same motive which prompts the 
Christian to fast and pray, and the Indian to bathe himself in 
the Ganges, or sit himself under the car of Juggernaut ; the 
same belief and hope in future life ; the same reverence of the 
Great Unseen, Whom he looks upon, not as the God of Chris- 
tians alone, but the God of all mankind, accepting not alone the 
services of any particular people or sect, offered in any particu- 
lar place or under any particular form, but taking delight in all 
the sincere adorations which rise as grateful incense from Earth's 
great altar ; a compound perfume, to which every people and 
sect contribute some ingredient. He is a sincere Christian him- 
self, and is therefore charitable towards all, believing that all 
will be rewarded according to their sincerity and means of 
information, and punished as those opportunities may be neg- 
lected or perverted. Such is properly a man of the world at 
our day, a Christian and accomplished gentleman ; and, being 
' the highest style of man,' he is only rarely seen among a mul- 
titude who may be equally pure and worthy. With far greater 



295 

devotion to the cause of Eeligion, the best example, perhaps, 
may be seen in the chief Apostle of our Saviour. 

" Robert Tkoup Paine. 
" Harvard University." [ Without date7[ 



THESIS — AETICLE XXV. 



" ' THE DISCOVERT OF A GOLD-MINE.' 



" By this subject we understand that we are to consider the 
advantages and disadvantages arising from such a discovery, 
regarded both in a moral and political sense, and the general 
effects of wealth upon Society. 

" Riches possess a charm for all. However much the moral- 
ist may decry the love of gain, he still finds that he is in posses- 
sion of that passion which he so much censures in others ; that 
he, in common with them, forms his schemes for the acquisition 
of wealth. It is this which drives onward the tide of life, and 
forms the business of society. What is so universal among indi- 
viduals belongs, of course, to nations. 

" Nothing, perhaps, tends more to a realization of this grand 
object than the discovery of an inexhaustible mine of gold. By 
this a State is made to lean upon its own resources, for it has 
the fountain of wealth within itself ; and this brings us to con- 
sider the effect of such a discovery in our own country. It is, 



296 

of course, useless to speculate on this point. Let us go at once 
to history, and see what has been the case with nations who 
have gone before us ; allowing, as well as we may, for those 
influences which arise from the progress of knowledge. It is 
from the past that we have mostly a right to judge of the 
future ; especially upon questions that concern the nature of 
man. That seems to have been without change, morally and 
physically ; otherwise, we should be unable, on the one hand, 
to appreciate the beauties of David and Homer, and the vices 
of the ancients ; nor, on the other, should we find the same 
effects from the same physical causes, from their earliest record. 
This consideration, which may be indefinitely carried out in the 
past, gives us the right to conclude that the same things will 
continue to have essentially the same effect upon the moral and 
political state of society at the present day as they had in the 
days of Rome and Carthage. 

" Let us, then, look at the question politically, in respect to 
those two nations. As long as they continued in a state which 
did not exceed the necessary means of independence, in which 
each one had only the fruit of his own labor, they were happy 
and harmonious compared with their condition when that flood 
of wealth poured in upon them after their conquests. It is this 
upon which we must look as the cause of those awful dissensions 
which took place between the common people and the aristo- 
cracy, and which often shook the empires to their very centres, 
and, at last, proved their destruction. Such were then the 



297 

effects of wealth in introducing corruption, and in making it 
the standard of respectability and rank ; and the modern his- 
tory of Spain will show us that its effects, at least when wealth 
is suddenly and easily acquired, are the same now, in their 
political aspect, as in ancient times. 

" What, next, was the effect of wealth upon the morals of 
those nations ? In the early stage of their existence they mani- 
fested a great respect for religion, such as they had. We find 
them regular and frequent in their sacrifices and feasts in honor 
of the gods, and these, too, performed with zeal. This religious 
sentiment, however astray from the truth, deterred them from 
the commission of crimes and gross excesses ; and so it continued 
until the torrent of wealth poured in upon them. Then how 
changed the scene ! ' The ancient piety and reverence for the 
gods gradually disappeared, and the sacrifices and festivals, 
which had formerly been celebrated in honor of the gods, with 
rustic simplicity, now served more as amusements and shows for 
the multitude, which became the more pompous as the people 
became more and more accustomed to splendor and magnifi- 
cence. The higher and educated class began to show symptoms 
of skepticism and a disbelief in the efficacy of the religious rites ; 
and from this time we not unfrequently meet with instances of 
an open disregard of the ordinances of religion.' And now it 
was, we may add, that the people not only turned their atten- 
tion from the good attributes of their gods, but worshipped and 
magnified their licentious ones. What shall we say, also, of the 



298 

system of extortion which was daily carried on by the governors 
of the provinces, and the constant bribery which was practised 
at home ? "What depravity arose among females ! What dis- 
gusting gluttony among the people in general ! Among the 
various details of history, it is stated that ' a slave, who was a 
good cook, now fetched a higher price in market than any other 
slave.' Such was the state of things at Rome, and certainly 
they were as bad at Carthage. We might now inquire, again, 
as to Spain ; but here the consequences are fresh before the 
world. 

" May we not, therefore, justly fear that sudden wealth 
would entail the most serious evils upon our own dear Country ? 
Forbid it, gracious Heaven ! Give me neither poverty nor 

riches. 

" Robert Troup Paine. 

" Harvard University, November 4, 1848." 



THESIS — AETICLE XXVI. 

" ' IS THE DESIRE OF PROPERTY AN INSTINCTIVE PRINCIPLE ? ' 

" In considering this question we intend to inquire whether 
the desire of property be wholly an instinctive or rational prin- 
ciple ; and, if not, how far it is entitled to the one, and how far 
to the other appellation. 



299 

" In order to be an instinctive principle it must first have 
universality, or very great generality ; and, secondly, it must be 
greatly conducive to man's welfare, as an animal, intellectual, 
and moral being. Some will say, that it should be common to 
man and the lower animals. But this is not at all necessary ; 
for, as the latter possess only the animal being, their instincts 
are necessarily limited to this. Man, on the contrary, having 
also the intellectual and moral being, must be provided with 
instincts adapted to these as well as to his animal nature. That 
such is true, may be readily seen in his curiosity, conscience, and 
sense of dependence upon a Superior Being. Still, however, if 
we find that animals also possess the desire of property, it 
would be a strong proof that this desire in man is instinctive, 
although, for the reasons which we have stated, it would be no 
proof against our ground should we find it to be otherwise. 

" The desire of property appears to be necessary to man's 
animal life. "When he was created, he was endowed with hun- 
ger, in common with the lower animals, to warn him of the 
necessity of nourishment. Now, if he were intended to inhabit 
those regions only where all nature buds and blossoms as the 
rose, and there were no necessity for toil in supplying his daily 
want of food, hunger alone would answer the purpose. But 
man was destined to penetrate every region and cover the 
whole Earth ; as well where winter reigns as eternal spring. 
Hunger, in this case, is wholly inadequate to the preservation 
of his being. Had the Almighty left him, therefore, without 



300 

an instinct to provide beforehand for his future necessity, the 
Sacred Historian could not have said, 'And God saw every 
thing that He had made, and behold it was very good.' But, 
in His unerring Wisdom, He provided for man in this respect, 
also, and made the desire of property, at least as far as his 
physical wants are concerned, a part of his nature. 

" Some will say, that, so far as this desire prompts man to 
supply himself with nourishment for future use, it is merely a 
modification of hunger. But, it is the peculiarity of hunger, as 
soon as its cravings are satisfied, to cause us to be disgusted 
with what before we earnestly sought after. ' The full soul 
loatheth the honey-comb.' Hunger, therefore, being very tem- 
porary in its nature, its end soon answered, and creating even 
an aversion to food as soon as satisfied, it must be very different 
from the desire of property in its relation to our provision of 
food, which is constant. 

" Now this desire of property belongs mostly to the intellec- 
tual part of man, although we find that animals possess some- 
thing very much like it. But, in man it extends to a great 
variety of things, and which refer as much to other objects as 
to food, while in animals it is limited to food alone. When the 
squirrel has taken his hearty meal of butternuts, he will carry 
to his nest, one by one, such as may remain, until, in this man- 
ner, there may be more than a bushel which this little animal 
has industriously collected. But some may say that the squirrel 
manifests this disposition only at a certain season of the year, 



301 

while man does it at all times. This is true of the animal in his 
wild state, because the food upon which he lives can be found 
only at a certain season. The case, however, is very different 
where he can get at food at other seasons. This I have often 
observed in a squirrel kept by myself. When offered nuts, 
after satisfying his hunger, he would deposit such as might 
remain under the rug, or in the corner of the room. But the 
principle went farther than this ; for, whenever admitted again 
into the room he would immediately examine the places where 
he had bestowed the nuts. If he found them safe, then all was 
peacable ; but if they were removed, he would show violent 
sigus of discontent. 

" We might now follow the subject into those details which 
show how far the desire of property is intellectual in man, and 
how it it differs from the hoarding propensity of lower animals. 
This would lead us to consider it in its other connections with 
the manners, comforts, and luxuries of life, and to examine its 
various modifications in relation to other desires, as manifested 
in the love of dress and equipage, in laying up property for 
children, and in avarice ; but we have probably said enough to 
answer the intention of our subject. 

" Eobeet Troup Paine. 

" Harvard University, October 4, 1849." 



302 



THESIS — AETICLE XXVII. 

" 'A CIVILIZED NATION WITHOUT FREE ACCESS TO BOOKS — PROBABLE 
METHOD OF SUPPLYING THEM.' 

" However difficult it may be for us to imagine a nation in 
a state of civilization, and at the same time deprived of what we 
suppose to be the source of that condition, and however impossi- 
ble such a coincidence may be in the future, history assures us 
that such has been the case. No one, for example, can regard 
the Egyptians but as a civilized nation. What mean those 
mighty piles, the wonder and admiration of all ages ? Their 
surpassing skill in embalming the dead ? The needle-work of 
' blue, and purple, and scarlet, and fine twined linen ' employed 
by the Israelites in constructing the tabernacle ? For, there is 
no reason to doubt that they obtained their learning from the 
Egyptians, as, indeed, we are assured they did. "What do these 
facts argue, and others like them, but a high state of refine- 
ment ; surpassing in some of the arts and branches of learning 
even our own times, with its myriads of books ? 

" That the Greeks and Romans were highly civilized nations 
no one will for a moment doubt. It may be said that they had 
books. It is true, there was here and there a manuscript locked 



303 

tip in the cabinets of the rich ; hut the people, as a mass, were 
excluded from these advantages. 

" The question, then, naturally arises, what were their sub- 
stitutes for books, with which we should think it impossible to 
dispense ? How came they by all this learning ? One great 
means, no doubt, was their traditions. These were connected 
with every thing ; with their religion, their state, and their 
being. In fact, the great mass of their literature is founded 
upon traditions. 

" Next, are the festal games, which were among their great- 
est advantages. It was these, indeed, that called forth the 
brightest displays of genius. On these occasions there was 
assembled a mighty concourse of people from all parts of the 
country ; and, as authors took these occasions to bring forward 
their productions, there must have been an opportunity to 
acquire an immense amount of information, and that, too, of 
the best kind, as few but those of superior talents contended 
for the prizes. There were, also, orations by the best statesmen 
and orators, which offered facilities to a great body of people. 
And when, besides this, we take into consideration the numer- 
ous schools taught by some of the greatest philosophers that 
have lived, we can see that the deficiency of books was tolera- 
bly well supplied. There was, indeed, this grand difference ; 
literary knowledge was then obtained by the ear, as it is now 
principally by the eye. Then the philosopher taught. In 
short, he was the book. Now, his office is, generally, to see 



304 

that his pupils apply themselves to their studies. Thus, in one 
case, a great amount of knowledge was imparted, in the other 
none at all. 

" But, besides all the knowledge gained and diffused by- 
such means, there was much which we should be at a loss to 
account for, except by supposing it to have originated with 
them. Is the human mind to be compared to a barn which can 
contain nothing but what is gathered into it ? Is it not rather 
like a beautiful vale, where bloom, in uninterrupted succession, 
most beautiful and fragrant flowers, which are, as it were, the 
children of the soil ? Indeed, if it had no power to originate, 
it could not be formed in the image of that Mind Which is the 
Origin of all things. 

" We cannot help deploring the mistaken principle which 
too many, in our day, act upon ; that all learning is to be 
obtained from books. Oh ! that every one would consider 
well the immensity of that treasure which is within him ; that 
every one would appreciate the ancient precept, 

rvafei aeavTov. 

" Robert Troup Paine. 
" Harvard University, March 3, 1849." 



305 



THESIS — ARTICLE XXVIII. 

" ' HE WHO DECIDES FOR HIMSELF IN REJECTING WHAT ALMOST ALL 
OTHERS RECEIVE.' 

" How curious is the contemplation of the nobler part of 
man ! How amazing the different dispositions of the mind ! 
How entirely the reverse may one man he of another ! While 
one will 'sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster,' another will 
' with mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come ; ' one will 
regard his parents with respect, another will stain his chariot- 
wheels with a father's blood ; one ploughs the main, another 
the land; one delights in the clash of arms, another in the 
quiet of a villa ; you can persuade one that the moon is a green 
cheese, and turn to the next man, you will find him doubting 
his own existence, or resolving it into nothing but ideas ; one 
will interpret an important passage of the Bible one way, 
another will interpret it the reverse. 

" There are certain things, however, which every one allows. 
In many cases, if any one should reject that which is received 
by the multitude, he would be justly subjected to the imputa- 
tion of skepticism, and, perhaps, of folly ; while in other cases 
he alone may be right. 

" What, then, is the boundary line ? Hie labor, hoc opus. 



306 

In the first place, there are many things which are self-evident, 
things which every one is bound to admit ; such as two sides 
of a triangle are longer than the remaining one, or that one 
straight line can cut another in only one point. So, also, of the 
several obvious qualities which a substance may present to the 
senses, as extension in length and breadth, color, odor, &c. To 
say that these effects are produced by nothing, would be a 
palpable absurdity ; and yet even these have been ingeniously 
denied by some philosophers. 

" There are other things, also, in which, although they are 
not self-evident, every one is expected to go with the multi- 
tude. Examples of this nature abound in biography, history, 
geography. 

" On the other hand, if hobgoblins, witches, and other crea- 
tures of superstition, were now, as formerly, objects of common 
belief, he would certainly be praiseworthy who should array 
himself in opposition. If the world should relapse into that 
darkness which once overhung it, the man who should first 
raise the torch of truth would write his name on the scroll of 
fame. 

" The question now naturally arises ; why does one, who 
differs from the multitude, expose himself to censure, or to the 
imputation of skepticism or eccentricity, and even to ridicule, 
while another, equally at variance, is not only justified, but 
applauded ? Whence this apparent injustice ? We think the 
explanation may be found in the following considerations : 



307 

" When any one refuses his assent to the common views on 
a certain subject, he is censured or praised (as the case may be), 
not from the mere fact that he differs from the multitude, but 
according as his opinions may be founded in reason and truth. 
The multitude is sometimes wrong, and sometimes right ; and, 
accordingly, he that differs from it must either rise or fall. 

" Let every man be upon his guard. Let him take reason 
as the rudder, and his vessel must glide triumphantly over the 
angry sea. While he avoids singularity in trifles, let no one 
believe because another believes, or deny because another de- 
nies, for that were to be a slave. But, let every one proudly 
maintain what is dictated by reason, though his name be Solus, 
and, in the end, he will find that ' Wisdom is justified of all her 

children. 1 

" Robert Troup Paine. 

" Harvard University." 



THESIS — AETICLE XXIX. 

" 'ALTHOUGH he was almost always lowest in all his classes, 
his companions and his masters looked upon him, by com- 
mon CONSENT, AS FIRST.' 

" This is one of the many instances in which merit and suc- 
cess, in schools and colleges, do not go together. It is one of the 
greatest mistakes to judge of the talent of any individual by 



308 

his standing in his class. High rank is often attained by the 
most ordinary minds, while others with splendid endowments 
are often compelled to take a lower seat. This is evident when 
we come to compare the requisites for excellence, in schools and 
colleges, with the many ways in which talent manifests itself. 

" In the course of education how various are the studies ! 
Look only at the multiplicity pursued in this College. Now, 
the standing of every individual is determined not only by his 
success in all these studies, but, also, not a little by his observ- 
ance of certain rules which have no relation to his academic 
pursuits. 

" As far as studies are concerned, success requires a well- 
balanced mind, and a good memory. It must be as much at 
home in one branch as it is in another. Talent, however, has 
generally a particular turn. The mathematician, for example, 
comprehends, at once, the great laws upon which the Universe 
is founded, and penetrates into those great truths of Nature 
which are hidden from the mental vision of the great bulk of 
mankind. But he can bear the palm only in those studies 
which belong to the mathematical department. His aptitude 
is generally limited here, and his memory is commonly deficient, 
though good among the stars. Here, therefore, may be great 
genius with only a moderate college rank. Sir Isaac Newton, 
the author of natural philosophy, and of whom it has been 
justly said, 

' So near the gods, man cannot nearer go,' 



309 

entered at Cambridge University when eighteen years of age, 
and, till he graduated, appears to have been only known as a 
student of mathematics, and this mostly to the Professor. Or, 
who will believe that our own prodigy in mathematics, Truman 
Henry Safford, now thirteen years of age, will, if he live, sus- 
tain the highest rank in his class, according to the ordinary test 
of College merit I 

" Again, genius manifests itself at other times, in remarkable 
powers of the imagination. Here we should look for excellence 
in theme-writing, and in those studies which require memory. 
But this would be no surety for success in oratory, while there 
would be a deficiency in those pursuits which require deep 
reasoning, the mathematics, intellectual and moral philosophy, 
forensics. These individuals, therefore, would be low in their 
class, although they might possess the genius of a Milton, or 
Pope, or Shakspeare. And so it commonly is throughout the 
history of mind. In whatever way talent manifests an unusual 
ability for any particular branch of learning, or occupation, the 
individuals are generally less qualified for success in other 
branches, especially those of an opposite nature. Hence an 
ordinary but well-balanced mind will often procure for its pos- 
sessor a higher grade in his class than one of superior order. 

" By neglecting, moreover, to observe strictly the rules 
which have no relation to study, the greatest intellectual merit 
and the highest attainments, along with the strictest course of 
morality, are made to yield to the same standard which meas- 



310 

ures the degrees of absolute knowledge and industry, and thus 
may fall below the rank of a very ordinary mind. 

" If we now take up the catalogue of graduates, year by 
year, we shall find our conclusions verified in the frequent obli- 
viousness of those who had received the first honors of College, 
while others of the lowest rank have caused the world to stare 
with admiration. 

" Robert Troup Paine. 

" Harvard University, November 22, 1849." 



THESIS — ARTICLE XXX. 

" ' WAS MARY ACCESSORY TO THE DEATH OF DARNLEY ? ' 

" ' Guilty,' or ' not guilty,' is a point which never can be 
determined at this day, when all we have is a general statement 
of facts without those minutiae which are so necessary in every 
case where guilt or innocence is not at once evident. 

" Being ourselves rather inclined to think that Mary is inno- 
cent (although we must say that there are strong arguments 
for a different opinion), we purpose a brief statement of the 
reasons upon which our mind is turned towards this belief. 

" What tends most to her conviction is the confession of 
Paris, a French servant of her household, who testified concern- 
ing a conference of Mary and Bothwell before the murder, in 



311 

which that event was plainly alluded to. Here, to be sure, 
they had an important witness ; the only human being who 
could testify to a fact which they were so anxious to establish. 
But, it should be remembered that this confession was wrung 
from him by torture, and by those who were most deeply 
interested in proving Mary's guilt ; and the circumstances are 
so suspicious throughout that little or no reliance should be 
placed upon them. 

" There is no other direct evidence, excepting the well 
known ' silver box.' This was said to have been found in pos- 
session of the Earl of Morton, and to have contained letters, 
contracts, and sonnets supposed to have been addressed by 
Mary to Bothwell. Now, although it is a curious fact that 
Morton, at his death, confessed that he promised to join the 
conspiracy against Darnley, if Bothwell could procure a sign of 
the Queen's consent, but which he was unable to do, he said not 
a word about the box. Dalgleish, also (in whose possession 
the box was found, while he was bringing it from the castle, 
where it is said Bothwell had left it for safe keeping, and had 
sent his servant Dalgleish to fetch it there), died asserting the 
innocence of the Queen. 

" When, therefore, we come to consider that Morton was a 
most bitter enemy of the Queen, and that he could have had 
no possible object in confessing what was so much against his 
character, and so much in favor of his determined adversary, 
and that the confession of Dalgleish was made in his dying 



312 

hour, and when we acid the improbability that Bothwell would 
preserve these papers which were of no use to him after his 
marriage with the Queen, and which contain perfect evidence 
of the guilt of both ; that when his affairs were in the most 
threatening position he would have left these papers in a castle 
where he dared not take refuge himself, and that he would 
have sent a servant to bring them through the midst of his 
foes, and that Balfour, the governor of the castle, who had 
already turned against Bothwell, would have given up the box 
without hesitation ; when we come to form these considerations, 
we say that we are authorized in the belief that these letters 
and signature were counterfeit ; and we are the more confirmed 
in this belief when we bear in mind that forgery was no uncom- 
mon thing in those days. Randolph, the agent of Elizabeth, is 
well known to have forged letters to advance her ally, the Earl 
of Morton. Kirkaldy was imposed upon by a forged letter in 
the hands of Morton. And, as Maitland acknowledged to the 
English Commissioners at York, that he had often forged the 
handwriting of Mary, it is not unreasonable to suppose that he 
did it on this occasion, when his own safety was so deeply con- 
cerned. 

" If Mary had wished to have got rid of Darnley, she could 
have done it by other means than causing his death. She could 
have obtained a divorce, and, indeed, she had been offered one. 
But she refused it, saying that her husband might reform. She 
appeared, also, to show great kindness and affection for Darnley, 



313 

although he was a desperate. wretch ; and there is no evidence 
that she was not sincere. 

" These considerations, and the great uncertainty connected 
with every circumstance alleged against her, should dispose us 
to think favorably of her ; although, as we have said, they by 
no means prove her innocence. 

" Robert Teotjp Paine. 

" Harvard University, December 6, 1849." 



THESIS— AETICLE XXXI. 

" ' SHAKSPEABE'S MIRANDA.' 

" The Tempest, in which Miranda plays so distinguished a 
part, is, perhaps, one of the most brilliant productions of Shak- 
speare, not only for the different characters which are there 
represented, but for the truth with which each one is car- 
ried out. 

" Miranda may be looked upon as representing the realities 
of life, under the special circumstances which are supposed to 
have attended her mind and person. She is designed by the 
Poet as an example of the human mind developed by the early 
influences of a right education, the inculcation of moral and reli- 
gious sentiment, enforced by a correct example in her parent, 
and unaffected, through early seclusion from the world, by any 



314 

influences of an opposite nature. True, there was that wicked 
Caliban ; but the great depravity of his disposition, contrasted 
with the amiability and virtue of Miranda's father, must only 
have served the purpose of increasing her detestation of vice. 

" We see, too, in Miranda, an illustration of the original 
dignity of human nature ; and if this be apparently contra- 
dicted by the character of the fiend, it must be recollected 
that his early life was moulded by a savage, which serves, like 
the other instance, as a proof that ' as the twig is bent the tree's 
inclined.' Again, as this contrast in character corresponds with 
what we commonly witness from opposite modes of education, 
it becomes an evidence that the Poet has been true to Nature 
in the personification of Miranda. 

" And now, while contemplating the manner in which virtue 
and vice are here presented, especially as the former is contrast- 
ed with the latter, we find that some moralists are mistaken in 
their opinion that no instruction can be derived from dramatic 
writings. What a lesson, indeed, do we read here ! What 
admirable simplicity, what correctness of principles in Miranda ! 
What charming humanity ; and, above all, her affection for her 
parent, which, springing forth in the midst of her other noble 
qualities, is ' like apples of gold in pictures of silver.' 

" There are few things which are a greater ornament to man 
than a respect for those who gave him birth. Indeed, it is the 
high command of Heaven, and upon it has been made to de- 
pend our success and respectability. It is this which lies at the 



315 

foundation of love to our neighbor. How incumbent, then, 
upon parents to instil early into their children the principles of 
rectitude, at an age when their minds are tender and flexible. 
There is a common opinion that the child must come to years 
of discretion before he can be a fit subject for the influences of 
Religion. Such was not the idea of Prospero. 

" There is in Miranda one trait which appears, at first, to be 
open to censure. It is the precipitancy which she manifests in 
her love affair ; what some may think to be rashness. But 
when we consider the peculiar circumstances under which she 
was placed, it will be seen that, so far from being a blemish in 
her character, it is necessary to its consistency ; that it was 
natural for her to give away her heart as soon as she found a 
suitable object, and that, in so doing, she was only acting out 
the promptings of her innocent disposition. This, however, 
forms one of the rare instances in which it may not be always 
safe to represent human nature in its most amiable simplicity ; 
for it will not answer in the practical world, where we must 
restrain our natural impulses and exercise deliberation. 

" We have not taken that limited view of Miranda which 
most Commentators have done, but the comprehensive one 
intended by the Creator in real life. We have regarded her 
as an example of purity, in which that which is considered by 
most as the essence, forms but an incident. 

" Robert Troup Paine. 

" Harvard University, October 14, 1848." 



316 



THESIS— ARTICLE XXXII. 



THE ORIGIN OF OUR FRIENDSHIPS.' 



" When man was created, he was endowed with certain 
instincts and propensities, both for the preservation of the indi- 
vidual and the perpetuation of his species. Such are hunger, 
thirst, the fear of death, parental and filial affection. This is 
all that would be necessary to man as an animal being, unless 
we include, also, the desire of property, or some instinctive pro- 
pensity analogous to it. If the Creator had ceased here, He 
would have left the best part unprovided for, and there would 
have been but little difference between a man and a dog. But, 
the Creator intended man for a higher sphere, endowed him 
with intellectual powers, and gave him appropriate propensities 
for the exercise of those powers. Among these is the principle 
of curiosity, the desire of property, the desire of power, and 
others analogous. Had the Creator gone no farther than this, 
man would be able to elevate his mind above sublunary things, 
and, moving among the stars, to have become acquainted with 
the beautiful symmetry of the Universe. But, had He stopped 
here, how faint an idea should we have had of the passage, 
' God created man in His own image ? ' If Phidias, in his 



31Y 

statue of Olympian Jupiter, Lad omitted the head and shoul- 
ders, his work would have been about as complete as the image 
of God would be, if man had only intellectual endowments. 
But the Creator is a better Designer than to have committed 
such an error as this ; for, to man's intellectual faculties He 
added one still higher, the moral faculty, and associated with 
it peculiar and appropriate propensities, such as gratitude, com- 
passion, patriotism, universal benevolence, jealousy. Still there 
is another thing needful to complete His work, without which 
the moral faculty would be in a very imperfect state, and man 
could claim very little resemblance to that God, Who, Scripture 
says, ' is Love.' But it has pleased that God, in the formation 
of man, to give him, also, the spirit of love and friendship. 

" Thus, we think that the true origin of our friendships must 
be referred to an ultimate fact in our nature. Still, however, 
like other endowments, it may be called forth and modified by 
circumstances. Owing to those influences, and the peculiar 
nature of friendship, it c&n exist in its full extent and purity 
among comparatively few. But this should be no argument 
against its being an inherent principle of our nature. It is not 
necessary to this conclusion that it should be generally mani- 
fested, but generally possessed. We might equally say that 
parental affection is not an instinctive principle, because parents 
do not always exercise it, as to deny the constitutional nature 
of the other for a like reason. Indeed, however latent it may 
be, it is common to all, or there could be no reclamation of 



318 

the hardened sinner. It must therefore exist in the breast of a 
Nero as well as of a John. 

" As to the circumstances which have most influence upon 
friendship, we may say, in the first place, that, as this feeling, 
in its proper acceptation, can be exercised towards only a few, 
it will naturally be most frequent and intense among those who 
are most intimate, particularly such as are associated in their 
daily pursuits. Hence it is, that ties of the warmest friendship 
are found among classmates at College, particularly chums ; so 
much so that he (as President Sparks said in his address) must 
be wanting in the finest feelings of our nature who would not 
grasp the hand of a Classmate with unusual zest, wherever he 
might find him. 

" Secondly, friendship, as known to all who have enjoyed it, 
is strengthened' by similarity of tastes and habits. This, too, is 
very generally exemplified among classmates, and among Chris- 
tian brethren. There is often something here like what may 
be called a moral electricity. But, while they are bands of 
friends, respectively, the one may have only a formal respect 
for the other. 

" Thirdly, the bond is more firmly united by our dependence 
upon each other. With what feelings do we regard him who 
smooths our brow in sickness, or comforts us with kind words 
when downhearted ! 

" How beautiful the summary by Pope, in the following 
lines : — 



319 

' Wants, frailties, passions, closer still ally 
The common interest, and endear the tie. 
To these we owe true friendship, love sincere, 
Each home-felt joy that life inherits here.' 

" Robert Troup Paine. 
" Harvard University, September 27, 1849." 



THESIS— ARTICLE XXXIII. 



GAUL, LAUGHS AT HIM FOR HIS CHILDISH HANKERING AFTER THE 
CITY.' 

" ' There are, who, distant from their native soil, 
Still for their own and country's glory toil ; 
While some, fast anchored to their parent spot, 
In life are useless, and in death forgot.' 

" The whole of this letter is nothing more than a paraphrase 
of ' the wise saying of an Eastern sage,' — ' Whatsoever thy hand 
findeth to do, do it with thy might.'' Yes, industry and perse- 
verance are peculiarly the characteristics of him whom you can 
truly call a man. They alone are the guides to honor, to worth 
and true respectability. By them alone can man attain the 
highest end of his being. He may sometimes seek recreation 
from the busy scenes of life in those of fashion and elegance. 
He may do it, too, with profit and amusement. But, to be the 



320 

creatures of fashion, to live to-day regardless of to-morrow, is 
the act of the butterfly, which, sporting thoughtlessly upon the 
summer breeze, suddenly finds the variegated dust of its gor- 
geous wings scattered to the winds. But the creature of fashion 
and the butterfly differ in this respect. The latter is acting out 
the purposes of his being, while the former not only cuts short 
the brief span allotted to his kind, but spends it in a strange 
perversion of Nature's plans. 

'In life he's useless, and in death forgot.' 

" Another propensity, which is inconsistent with the true 
spirit of a man, is an excessive attachment, a childish respect 
for one's native spot. This is to be overcome only by the spirit 
of industry and perseverance, a firm determination to fight 
bravely the battle, wherever the scene of action may be. We 
do not mean to say that one should choke all warm feelings for 
the place of his birth ; for we believe them to be consistent 
with the highest and noblest spirits, nay, perhaps one of their 
universal characteristics. How delightful is it when in a foreign 
land, engaged in the arduous duties of life, to now and then 
transport yourself on the wings of memory to the place where 
you have passed childhood's golden hours ! .What a balm does 
it diffuse over your manly toils ! 

" But, while we admire and sympathize with such a spirit, 
how differently, on the other hand, do we regard that slavish- 



321 

ness to one's natal spot, which disqualifies man to act in the 
drama of life. The former belongs to minds of greatness and 
energy ; but the latter is always significant of weakness, and 
feebleness of purpose. The cases are much analogous to one's 
affection for his mother ; for, while there can be no greater 
ornament to a man than a heartfelt care, and love, and rever- 
ence of her who gave him birth, still, upon whom do we bestow 
greater contempt than upon him who is ' tied to his mother's 

apron-string?' (See page 153.) 

" Robert Troup Paine. 

" Harvard University, June 20, 1850." 

The following Thesis, written a little more than five months 
before his death, was found among his private papers, forwarded 
to his Parents from Cambridge. It appears to have been read 
before one of the literary Societies with which he was connect- 
ed ; and the Parents have printed it to show the nature of his 
contributions to those Societies, his expanded views, his aspira- 
tions after knowledge, his universal philanthropy, and as giving, 
also, a right construction to his Letters relative to the Cholera. 
(See page 153.) Coming from a Youth, it may go with the 
rest, too, in promoting sympathetic views in other youthful 
minds. The manuscript will be bound with the folio volume 
mentioned hereafter ; as will be, also, those of Articles II. and 
III., and of the Prayer of his early Childhood. 

The beginning is torn away. The subject is the Advan- 
tages of Travelling. 



322 



THESIS— AETICLE XXXTV. 



* * * * — "The world is filled with scenes to which 
spirits of every cast must respond with delight. Almost every 
step the traveller makes lays open to him a new theatre of 
pleasure, drawn either from the place itself or the associations 
with which he surrounds it." (Here again nearly a page of the 
manuscript is torn away.) 

" To the Divine the land of Palestine, once the scene of the 
labors and adventures of the great and the good, must be a 
source of enjoyment which he can find in no other country." 
(Torn again.) 

" Even the book-worm, should he ever be tempted to leave 
his closet, can find in other lands libraries where he is able to 
satisfy an appetite which the scanty means he enjoyed at home 
served only to increase. 

" While to the universal traveller, to the man whose atten- 
tion is fixed upon every thing, there is no place that has not 
a charm, the sublimities and the beauties of Nature, and the 
magnificence of Art, combine to form the spell which is strength- 
ened by the variety they afford, and he, of all men, feels pecu- 
liarly the truth of the saying, ' variety is the spice of life.' 

" But the pleasure of which travelling is the source is not 



323 

confined to the time actually spent in it ; for the various scenes 
and adventures fill the mind with pleasing recollections which 
spread a smile over the countenance of the aged man, and glad- 
den those days of which he might otherwise say ' I have no 
pleasure in them.' Travel, then, is to man a source of the most 
exquisite and rational enjoyment ; one, too, most lasting in its 
nature. If this were all that could be alleged in its favor, how 
incalculable would be its benefits. 

" We now come to consider our subject in a higher point of 
view ; the value of travel as a means of the acquisition of know- 
ledge. 

" As a certain degree of book-learning greatly enhances the 
enjoyment of travel, so that, in its turn, must vastly increase 
the stock of information which has been obtained from books. 
This benefit is extended to men in all the departments of science 
and literature, It is in this way, alone, that the naturalist can 
be successful in his labors. Nature to be described must be 
observed. Before her secrets can be published to the world 
they must be discovered. It was thus that Pliny, Buffon, Au- 
dubon, Wilson, and all other great naturalists, have become so 
intimately acquainted with Nature, or certain departments of 
Nature, and have gained that fame which so justly attaches to 
their names. The chemist, too, and the natural philosopher, 
now in the laboratory or the studio, examine more or less into 
the laws of Nature ; the one, those which concern the particles 
of matter, the other, those which regulate huge masses. But 



324 



when they come from their retirement, and go forth into the 
world, the great Laboratory of Nature, they then observe the 
operation of those laws, and are able to see a demonstration of 
their reasonings. 

" But, although the chemist can now conduct most examina- 
tions successfully in the laboratory, it was not so in the begin- 
ning ; for the first examinations had to be made upon Nature 
herself, or, rather, by the experiments which she performed ; 
as the laboratory is only a humble imitation of Nature. When 
the chemist, by means of re-agents, decomposes a certain com- 
pound into its elements, or unites them again to form a new 
compound, he merely imitates what goes on in the world 
around us on an extensive scale ; or, when by the heat of his 
furnace he breaks the union between the particles of matter, it 
is but an imitation of what is carried on by the great internal 
fires of the earth. Had it not been for the travels of such men 
as Black, Berzelius, Davy, and Humboldt, where must have 
been the sciences of chemistry and natural philosophy; espe- 
cially chemistry, which, although now one of the most advanced, 
must otherwise have been still in its swaddling clothes. 

" To the botanist travel is of peculiar advantage. It needs 
no argument to show that the first knowledge of the beautiful 
order which exists in the vegetable kingdom must have been 
derived from the observation of living plants ; and, although 
one may now obtain much information from an examination of 
herbariums, yet who shall say that labors spent upon fresh and 



325 

verdant Nature are not crowned with much greater success 
than those bestowed upon the dried-up and mummified speci- 
mens of which botanical collections are composed ! 

" To the geologist travel is indispensable. He has to do, 
not with any particular stratum in any particular place, but 
with the general conformation of the earth. He has to observe 
many different strata in regions remote from one another ; and, 
by comparing those that he finds in one with those that he 
finds in another, he makes deductions, and arrives at general 
conclusions with regard to the whole. 

" I cannot dismiss this part of my subject without speaking 
of the physician, a character in whom many of us may hereafter 
be particularly interested. If he be a man of observation and 
correct judgment, travel must be to him a great source of im- 
provement. It is thus he can become acquainted with all dis- 
eases and all stages of the same disease. Thus he enters into 
the philosophy of morbid nature, and what to many of his pro- 
fession who have been less favored with opportunities appears 
to be wrapped in mystery, is to him perfectly plain and simple. 
It was thus with Hippocrates and Galen, and most others whose 
names stand forth in bold relief in the great Temple of Medi- 
cine ; and thus it must be with most of those who hereafter 
shall wish to follow in their paths. 

" It must not be imagined, however, that the benefits of 
travel, in this respect, are confined to the individuals them- 
selves. The world at large has a share in them ; for the 



326 

researches thus made, and the information thus gained by the 
naturalist, the chemist, the philosopher, and the geologist, are 
not allowed to be imprisoned in their brains, for each vies with 
another in the respective sciences in publishing to the world 
new truths ; thus affording an opportunity to multitudes of 
others, less favored with the advantages of travel, of gaining 
a general knowledge, though by no means so extensive as when 
the study of their works is accompanied by actual observation 
of Nature. What is it, too, more than the knowledge first 
acquired by opportunities of travel, aided by the art of print- 
ing, that has served to dissipate the thick shades of ignorance 
and superstition, so characteristic of the middle ages, and dif- 
fuse that general information by which we are so happily distin- 
guished from all who have gone before us ? 

" But, it is not in the knowledge itself that these benefits 
end ; for it is the application of this knowledge which consti- 
tutes many of the useful arts to which we owe so many of the 
outward comforts and blessings of life. Here, again, it behooves 
me to recur, above all others, to the physician, whose personal 
knowledge forms so small a consideration when compared with 
the smiling looks, the ruddy cheeks, the happy firesides, which 
hail him as the greatest benefactor of his race — as truly ' the 
man of God.' 

" In treating of the second part of our subject, then, we 
have considered the direct benefits of travel to the individual 
himself, either as an opportunity of discovering new truths, or 



327 

as a means of facilitating their study from books ; also, of the 
advantages accruing to the world at large from the diffusion of 
this knowledge, its application to the useful arts, and, above all, 
its influence on the practice of medicine. 

" But let us go one step higher, and view our subject in a 
still nobler aspect ; the effects of travelling upon the mind. 
Here, then, what a mighty difference between the man who 
shoulders his carpet-bag and the man who trots the baby ! 
How expanded the mind of the former ! How broad his 
ideas ! How liberal his views ! How changed the whole inner 
man from the time he first crawled forth from the narrow 
limits of his domicil ! He not only must have the superiority, 
but must feel it. The traveller must regard the man whose 
world has been his house very much in the same light that the 
Senior looks upon the Freshman ; with feelings, however, of 
pity, never of contempt — for the man who has never travelled 
may be truly styled the Freshman of the world. But let us 
pursue the matter a little more in detail. 

" First, then, travel serves to free the mind from the shackles 
of bigotry, a spirit one of the most universal yet the most con- 
ceited, most selfish, that the human breast can harbor. The 
man, whose ideas have been enlarged by travel, can have no 
fellowship with the narrow-minded who condemn all others who 
happen to differ from them in belief or opinion, even upon the 
most trifling subjects, and this, too, in the most unimportant 
ceremonies of Religion. The traveller learns to look through 



328 

the outward form to the spirit of which it is the manifestation ; 
and, while he himself adopts a certain creed, and engages in 
certain acts of devotion, he extends that charity to others, who 
differ from him in either, that he would have others extend to 
him ; bearing in mind that it was not ordained that all should 
think alike, and that the same spirit of devotion may be ex- 
pressed by totally different acts. 

" But his views extend, in this respect, still farther than the 
different sects of his own Religion. They extend to different 
Religions. He has seen the Hindoo sacrifice himself beneath 
the car of Juggernaut, the Chinaman prostrate himself before 
his God Josh, and the fire-worshipper do homage before the 
hallowed flame. He has reflected upon the various pictures 
before him ; he has pitied these creatures of superstition, and 
wished them a thousand times the advantages which he has en- 
joyed. But he penetrates beneath the outward acts, and finds 
them prompted by the same zealous spirit which actuated the 
breast of the most pious saint, and he certainly cannot doubt of 
its acceptance.* He finds, moreover, not only the spirit of all 
Religions to be the same, but also their object, namely, the 
homage of a Being superior to man, and upon Whom man 
every where feels himself dependent. Thus he unites under 

* Our Saviour appears to have gone much farther than this in his compassion of 
ignorance : — '■'■Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." It is a godly 
example for us, not only of forgiveness, but that we should " Judge not according to 
the appearance, but judge righteous judgment" Also, Romans, chapters 2, 5, 14. — 
[The Parents.] 



329 

the same bond of brotherhood not only all sects of the Chris- 
tian Religion, but all religions. Not now, as perhaps once he 
did, does he look upon his own sect as the privileged few, but 
sees even in the sincere pagan a fellow traveller to the Land of 
Bliss. Not now does he look upon the Object of his worship 
as taking pleasure only in the incense offered in the temples 
where his own creed is preached, but as a Being 

" ' Whose Temple is all space, 
Whose Altar, Earth, Sea, Skies ; ' 

taking delight in all the incense that rises from this great Altar ; 
a compound perfume, in which that offered by each creed, sect, 
kindred, or tongue, forms one ingredient. 

" But, not only are- the views of the traveller himself thus 
enlarged, but it is through him that the same spirit of liberality 
must be diffused in the world, that hostility between different 
bodies of Christians, arising from the spirit of sectarianism, 
must be finally quelled, and all sects be brought to feel that, 
although they are apparently different, they are essentially the 
same, and have one common object. It is through the traveller, 
moreover, that the tirades against the world and its innocent 
pleasures must be suppressed ; for certainly no one but he who 
has never seen the world can give vent to such language as is 
too common, but which, to say the most, is a poor compliment 
to the Creator. 

" Not only, then, does the traveller become freed front big- 



330 

otiy, but his ideas upon all subjects become extended, and, 
among others, upon that of happiness. All of you must have 
met with multitudes of those who think that none can be 
happy who are addicted to different habits from them ; who 
follow a different occupation, or are placed in different circum- 
stances ; who live under a different government, or inhabit a 
different clime ; in fine, that they and a few others, who five in 
the same manner and are situated the same as they, are the 
only happy of the Earth. 

" There is another class, too, with which all must be more or 
less conversant, who are continually thinking, ' Oh ! if we only 
had this,' or ' we only had that, how happy should we be ! ' 
Perhaps it may be wealth, power, knowledge, or a particular 
combination of outward circumstances, in which they conceive 
this treasure, happiness, to dwell. But the traveller sees the 
delusion of such spirits. He finds that happiness has no par- 
ticular home ; for the tenant of the frigid zone proclaims it as 
his own, — 

" ' Extols the treasures of his stormy seas, 
And his long nights of revelry and ease. 
The naked negro, panting at the line, 
Boasts of his golden sands and palmy wine, 
Basks in the glare, or stems the tepid wave, 
And thanks his gods for all the good they gave.' 

" The traveller finds that happiness may be possessed alike 
by all, the learned and the ignorant, the high, the low, the rich 



331 

and the poor ; that neither education, nor outward circum- 
stances, can bestow this precious gift, that alone 



content can spread a charm, 



Redress the clime, and all its rage disarm. 

Though poor the peasant's hut, his feasts though small, 

He sees his little lot the lot of all ; 

Sees no contiguous palace rear its head 

To shame the meanness of his humble shed ; 

No costly lord the sumptuous banquet deal, 

To make him loathe his vegetable meal ; 

But calm, and bred in ignorance and toil, 

Each wish contracting, fits him to the soil.' 

" Thus the traveller finds the great means of happiness pro- 
vided in our nature ; so that, wherever he goes, among men of 
whatever mode or condition of life, he still meets with the 
merry heart and the cheerful look. The whole world, in fine, 
seems to him a Winnipisseaukee. * 

" But, it is not only with a part of our nature with which 
the traveller becomes acquainted. The whole of it lies before 
him. He sees the original, in the correct copy of which rests 
the fame of the great Shakspeare. What more interesting ! 
What more elevating than the study of human nature ! To 
see the working of the passions, nay, of all the inward springs 

* Probably the true Indian name of the Winnipisseogee Lake, and expressive of 
the beauty of its scenery, " which is considered superior to any thing else of the kind 
in the United States." The Lake is twenty-five miles long, and ten broad, abounds 
with fish, and contains 365 islands. — [The Parents.] 



332 

of action ; to watch the actions of others, and from them to go 
to the motives of which they are only the manifestation ; to fol- 
low on the one hand hypocrisy, knavery, and intrigue, through 
all their forms, and then to turn to all that is great and noble ; 
and, in viewing others, as in a mirror, to see yourself — thus 
being able, literally, to fulfil the the precept of the philosopher, 
Tvco&i Otavvov. 

" It remains now to consider the benefits of travel to Society. 
As the good of mankind is of paramount importance to that of 
an individual, and as every individual forms a part of society, 
we rank the advantages which may come under this division of 
our subject as first in importance. Travel serves, then, to bring 
all orders of men together. It is thus the educated and the 
ignorant, the monarch and the dumphng-woman, meet in social 
intercourse. It is needless to say how much this brings all 
classes into then - natural relations, and to realize more forcibly 
the tie of common brotherhood ; while this serves to create 
general good feeling, and would be particularly the case if 
what formerly was known by the ' ties of hospitality ' could 
now be carried out. But the enormous increase of travel has 
rendered this utterly impossible in many places ; so that, instead 
of becoming a private guest, the traveller takes shelter in the 
public house. Still, there is many a wild sequestered spot to 
which the traveller, seeking for novelty, winds his way, and 
greets the peasant's hut with his cheerful presence, partakes of 
the frugal board, and relates a merry tale to which the rustic, 



333 

ever and anon, proclaims his satisfaction by exclamations of 
wonder. It is this, moreover, that serves to unite all nations 
and kindreds, all ranks and conditions, in one common interest, 
and makes each feel his dependence upon the other, that in 
union is true prosperity. It is this feeling that has done so 
much, of late, to improve the condition of society throughout 
the world. It is this which, when it has consummated its work, 
must finally unite, firmly and everlastingly, all the families of 
the Earth under the bands of Peace. 

" But, as you are now saying in your hearts, ' Quousque tan- 
dem abutere nostra patientia,' I must halt in my career, bearing 
in mind 'the wise saying of the Eastern Sage,' Mtya xaxov 
/usya ftifiliov. 

" Robert Troup Paine. 

" September 20, 1850." 



su 



THEMES WRITTEN AT COLUMBIA COLLEGE 
GRAMMAR SCHOOL. 

The following Themes were written by Kobert while at the 
Grammar School of Columbia College. Some of them would 
have been omitted, had it not been the particular object of his 
Parents to exhibit the unexampled disposition of the Child to 
cany his moral and religious feelings into the whole, as well at 
the Grammar School as at the University, and when, at the 
buoyant age of his companions, he was little likely to have 
been encouraged by the sympathy of many. Nor was he ever 
prompted to do this by his Parents, nor would he ever receive 
any aid in his Compositions. He was singularly independent 
in this respect ; often writing them without the knowledge of 
his Parents, so that several of them, as those upon " Home," 
" Night," " Christmas Holidays," were never read by his Parents 
(as they can recollect) till after his death. 

It will be borne in mind that his education was begun late 
in his childhood, and the hope may be expressed that what is 
juvenile in the Compositions, if not adapted to maturer minds, 
will be attractive and useful to the young. 



335 



THEME — AETICLE 



" ' HOME.' 



" There is implanted in the breast of man a feeling of fond- 
ness for his country, for his native town, and for the place 
where he has passed his early days by the social fireside in the 
bosom of an affectionate family. This is observable in all na- 
tions, kindreds, and tongues, from the time when Adam, with 
his consort Eve, was driven from the earthly Paradise, to the 
present moment. You may even distinguish it, in some degree, 
in the Arabs of the desert, and in the wilder savage. You may 
see it in the ignorant idolater as well as among enlightened 
Christians ; among the inhabitants of the Pacific Islands as well 
as the noble-hearted Americans. This feeling, moreover, is not 
limited to the human race. Brute animals have a fondness for 
their home. They cling to it, they flee to it as a place of 
safety. 

" The comforts of home are innumerable. It is there that 
wants are supplied, and wishes are gratified. There, are friends 
to pity in calamity, and afford us comfort in sickness and misfor- 
tune. There, we have the society of our parents till the cold 
hand of death severs the tie, and the spirit returns to the God 



336 

That gave it. Time, at length, may behold ii-s sitting in the 
midst of many children. 

" This affection for home is displayed wherever man may 
be ; in whatever land his lot may be cast. Go with him to the 
battle-field. There, his dear family and sweet home are ever 
uppermost in his mind. There, amidst the roar of cannon and 
clashing of swords, the pleasant scenes of his boyhood, while 
under his father's roof, form the subjects of his reflection. He 
remembers those hours when he was a stranger to sorrow, and 
grief had not as yet descended upon his brow. He remembers 
his boyish sports ; and carrying his thoughts back to those 
times long since gone by, he will even now imagine himself one 
moment as he had been engaged in the game of ball, at another 
taking a part in the chase, and at another pulling out from the 
sparkling brook the spotted trout. Then his family will rush 
again upon his mind, and he is encouraged to fight manfully. 
Knowing that both his and their safety may depend upon his 
valor, he fights for his life, his country, and his home. Follow 
him to whatever quarter of the globe you please, and under 
any imaginable circumstances, you will see the same anxious 
concern for his family. 

" We can plainly discern, from a little observation, that this 
is merely carrying out the great design which the Almighty has 
made for the happiness and well-being of His creatures ; for it 
is not only true of the whole human family, but each tribe of 
animals, and every species of vegetables, have a climate and 



33Y 

food adapted to their subsistence. Even this latter condition is 
seen among certain tribes of men. Take the black African from 
his sunny clinie and carry him to the frigid zone, he will soon 
pine away, and pale death will soon spread its mantle over that 
face which a short time ago was delighting in a scorching cli- 
mate. So take the orange from its native country, where it is 
a green and flourishing tree, and attempt to cultivate it in an 
atmosphere of the Middle States, it dwindles into a shrub. The 
same principle is carried out in the two living kingdoms. 

" It was the comforts and attachments to home that our Sa- 
viour beautifully referred to in the finest and most instructive 
of His parables. The prodigal son, having wasted his living in 
a far country, came at length to himself, and was compelled to 
say — ' How many hired servants of my father's house have 
bread enough, and to spare, and I perish with hunger.' It was 
then that the blessings of his home, and a father's care and 
watchfulness presented themselves to his mind, as a reprover of 
his wickedness and folly ; and he at length broke forth in the 
resistless eloquence of woe. ' I will arise, and go unto my 
father, and will say unto him, Father, I have sinned against 
Heaven, and before thee, and am no more worthy to be called 
thy son ; make me as one of thy hired servants.' See now, 
even before he reaches the house he begins to realize the bless- 
ings of that dear home which he thought so little of before ; 
for while he is ' yet a great way off,' his ever affectionate father 
runs to meet him, falls upon his neck and kisses him. He gives 



338 

hini no reprimand, but tells his servants to bring forth the best 
robe and put it on him, and to put a ring on his finger, &c. 

" Here is a picture of home painted by the Saviour Himself. 
But this parable would not confine the mind to earth. It would 
lead it far above the stars, into regions of never fading bliss. It 
has a higher aim than merely to describe an earthly scene ; for, 
under the type of the affection of a parent, who receives with 
demonstrations of the greatest joy his penitent son, and again 
numbers him in the bosom of his family, is shown the boundless 
mercy of our Heavenly Father in pardoning, and even blessing 
with His Holy Spirit the sinner who is truly sorrowful for his 
faults ; and, under the symbol of the comforts and pleasures of 
an earthly home, compared with being an outcast in a distant 
land, is shown the enjoyments attendant upon the path of duty, 
and contrasted with the wretchedness that accompanies that of 
wickedness and folly ; for ' the ways of wisdom are ways of 
pleasantness, and all her paths are peace.' From this single 
parable there is more instruction to be derived than from fifty 
sermons, or ten thousand novels. Such is the conciseness of 
Scripture. There is often to be found in a few lines what man 
would spin out into volumes and volumes. As a standing proof 
of this, take the very commencement of Holy Writ, that beau- 
tiful and sublime chapter concerning the Creation of the world, 
which stands unrivalled in the vast field of literature. This 
conciseness is, in my opinion, one of the greatest evidences of 
the Divine origin of the Bible. 



339 

" But to return more to our subject. Great and innumera- 
ble as are the blessings of borne, still bow many are there who 
are not aware of the favors they are continually receiving from 
their Creator, and from then' kind parents, and whose unnatural 
hearts are perfect strangers to love ; but the time will come 
when they will repent in sackcloth and ashes. That time will be 
when those blessings have fled away as the noonday shadow — 
gone to return no more. Then will they rise before the offender, 
in battalions, to remind him of the ingratitude of his early days, 
and floods of tears will roll down his cheeks as he reflects upon 
a mother's anxious care or a father's watchful eye, and in the 
grief of his heart he will smite upon his breast, and exclaim — 
' God be merciful to me a sinner ! ' 

" ' Why does the mind, where'er we roam, 
Cling to the spot our earliest home ? 
The hearth, the hoard, the social glee, 
Are fondly kept in memory. 

" ' The little group, so thoughtless, gay, 
The pastimes at the close of day, 
By grief untouched, unknown to sorrow, 
No sad forehodings of to-morrow. 

" ' The mild rebuke in kindness given, 
The lips that taught the way to Heaven, 
The watchful eye, the anxious care, 
The love unfeigned — all, all were there.' 

" KoBEBT TEOTTP PatNE. 

" Columbia College Grammar School, April, 1846." 



340 



THEME — ARTICLE XXXVI. 

" 'NIGHT.' 

" Night may be considered under several significations, some 
of which are distinguished by comforts, pleasures, and blessings, 
and others by woes. First in order comes the natural night, 
and the great uses for which it is ordained. This appears to be 
the season designed in the economy of the Creator for reviving 
languid and drooping Nature. "Who can declare its seemingly 
miraculous power ? The animal kingdom, fatigued, worn out, 
in the brevity of a day ; the weary limbs, the broken heart, the 
deathly looks, the feverish skin, drooping vegetation, the parch- 
ed earth and the fading leaf, all lift up their voice to Heaven, 
and cry for rest and refreshment ; aud while the word is yet in 
their mouths, Night, in her mission of mercy, is fast advancing, 
bearing healing in her wings, in her right hand ' Nature's sweet 
restorer, balmy sleep,' and in her left the dews of Heaven. In 
the morning, how is the scene changed ! The fatigue, the 
stupor, the listlessness, that a few hours before held undisputed 
sway, are now turned to vigor, and universal mirth and happi- 
ness. This, succeeded by the early beams of Phoebus, shining 
with sparkling lustre upon the drops of dew, as they cling to 
the verdant grass, or hang suspended from the tender leaf ; the 



341 

warbling songsters, and the cheerful song of the merry hay- 
makers, serves to produce a scene which truly shows forth the 
mercy and the loving kindness of Him "Who ruleth among the 
children of men, and to describe which, in its proper colors, 
would be beyond the power of angelic tongue. 

" But that is not all. Look at the canopy of Heaven. What 
a sublime, beautiful spectacle, with its silvery studs ! Even to 
the thoughtless or uneducated the glittering points are objects 
of admiration in their external appearance alone ; but the man 
of reflection discovers in them the sublime as well as the beau- 
tiful. In them he can see his Maker ; in them he can see 
reflected, as in a glass, his own comparative littleness, and he is 
lost when he considers that those bodies, which appear to be 
but specks, but mites, are suns, in magnitude and splendor like 
our own, and that, around each of them probably revolves a 
planetary system, 'guided' like 'Arcturus and his sons.' His 
wonder increases when reason and analogy lead him to reflect 
that each of these worlds contains as many, and, perchance, 
many times as many inhabitants as our own favorite Earth. 
But what can he say when he turns his eyes to the milky-way, 
to the nebulae, and considers that their light is produced by the 
confused light of myriads of separate stars, more distant, per- 
haps, from each other than our sun from Sirius, and which, like 
those that shine by themselves, are as many myriads of suns, 
around which also revolve systems that are probably inhabited 
by innumerable beings like ourselves ! Thus, he soon finds 



342 

himself lost in the immensity of space ; lost in devotional feel- 
ing. And, surely, these thoughts should be enough to break 
the pride of science, or of the most haughty and cruel tyrant. 
If only indulged, they must lead the vainglorious to more 
humble views of themselves, and all earthly greatness must 
appear to them an insignificant thing. For what is a Newton, 
or the greatest monarch, when weighed in the balance with 
countless myriads of rational beings like themselves ! These 
are the greater wonders, wonderful as are the tributary spheres. 
What exalted ideas must, then, be entertained of Him Who 
spoke but the word, and they sprung into existence, and Who, 
ever since their Creation, has continued to rule the motions of 
the heavenly bodies, and to shower His blessings upon every 
creature, thinking not even the meanest insect beneath His no- 
tice, or unworthy of His Almighty Protection. And what an 
encouragement to every human heart to know, that, although 
it is but one among so many countless myriads, not one good 
thought, not one good word, will pass unobserved, unrewarded, 
by Him Who is righteousness itself. 

" But we must not stop here. Although the stars and the 
planets are the first things in Creation that attract our observa- 
tion, and are best calculated to draw off the mind from earth, 
shall we find nothing to admire, as a munificence of Night, in 
the trailing or hairy comets, no instruction to draw from those 
mysterious bodies, about which, although passing so near the 
earth, we know nothing as regards their composition, or the 



343 

purpose for which they were designed — no analogy whatever 
to guide our inquiry ? That remains known, unthought of, to 
the Mind alone by Which was first formed the plan of their 
Creation. They startle us with their appearance, they confound 
us with their disappearance. 

" And shall we not add to our nocturnal view that soft and 
gentle light which rests upon the northern horizon, on a still 
evening of Autumn, or flashes up to the zenith, and which 
defies the pencil of an Apelles, or the pen of a Virgil or a 
Homer ? No heart has been obtuse to this, nor will it ever 
cease to be the admiration of all who behold it. The literary 
will continue to describe it, and the scientific more vainly to 
fathom its objects. Or shall we pass in silence the fiery mete- 
ors, as they shoot athwart the heavens, or as others descend like 
a shower of stars ? To the contemplative mind there is no one 
of them that does not yield the richest instruction, or improve 
his heart ; and to every observer they are among the wonders 
of the Night. 

" After subjecting these wonders to our deliberation, we 
may truly say, that the book of Nature is most voluminous in 
the heavens, and may well exclaim with the Psalmist : 

" ' The heavens declare the Glory of God, and the firmament 

showeth His handy work.' 

" Robert Troup Paine. 

" Columbia College Grammar School, Jan. 11, 1847." 
" N. B. To be continued." 



344 



THEME— ARTICLE XXXVII. 

" ' NIGHT.' — CONTINUED. 

" Night is the season most adapted to silent meditation, self- 
examination, fervent prayer, and thanksgiving ; for, the world 
shut out, and harassing cares banished from the mind, the heart 
must be better qualified for holding communion with its God, 
and the Christian alone within his closet, or surrounded by his 
family, while perusing the sacred pages of the Bible, or engaged 
in prayer, must feel a degree of reverential awe and holy fire 
pervade his heart, which the noise and bustle of the day can 
never inspire, but which, on the contrary, only tend to drive 
out all serious thoughts, holy desires, and emotions of gratitude. 
Or, when laying his head upon the pillow, how often are the 
misdeeds of his past life, the unbridled tongue, the idle hours, 
profaned Sabbaths, injured neighbors, and the slighted widow, 
wont to rise in legions before him ; and, while reflecting upon 
these, his countenance is changed, his thoughts are troubled, his 
mind is completely overcome with grief that he should have 
thus pursued a perverse course, notwithstanding the many bless^ 
ings which had been daily showered upon his head — a grief 
which no tongue can utter, no words express, which can only be 
felt by its unhappy victim. Sleep goes from him and leaves 



345 

liim tossed upon a troubled sea of anguish, until he has sincerely 
repented, acknowledged the goodness of Heaven in not cutting 
him off in the midst of his career, but thus enabling him to see 
himself and to form new resolutions for the future, and, smiting 
himself upon his bosom, has prayed God to be merciful to him 
a sinner, and to enable him to direct his steps aright. 

" Night, however, in the case of many, presents an entirely 
different picture from that described above. Its shades are 
particularly grateful to the murderer, the thief, and to all others 
of a malicious character. How many a blade has reeked with 
the life-blood of the unwary ! How many a traveller robbed, 
stripped, then left alone ; no one to bewail his misfortunes or to 
take vengeance on his cruel oppressors ! How many a quiet 
citizen has been despoiled of his goods, or been waked from his 
slumber by the crackling of merciless flames — overwhelming 
some, scarcely sparing others ! How many women have been 
compelled to forfeit their virtue and honor, by some lascivious 
scoundrel ! And all these offences perpetrated under those 
visible glories, those eyes of Heaven, which, if they see not, are 
not less significant of an All-seeing Providence. But Night 
shuts out the vision of man, and therefore the wicked ' prefer 
darkness to light because their deeds are evil ' in the sight of 
man. It appears, indeed, to be the season best suited for the 
exercise of any predominant passion, whether good or evil. In 
one case, however, its influences are upon the soul ; in the other, 
it merely affords opportunities. It is probably from the latter 



346 

circumstance, that the ancients made Night the mother of dis- 
cord, fraud, and many other vices. The Romans personified 
her under the name of Nbx, and worshipped her as one of the 
earliest deities. She was regarded as the mother of Day, and 
Dreams, and Death, and black sheep were offered to her as the 
mother of the Furies. We read, also, that the Cock was sacri- 
ficed to her, as that bird announces the approach of day. Other 
things are said of her, which have, also, their significant mean- 
ing. The ancients paid her homage, no doubt, out of respect 
for the relief which she bi'ings to weary and drooping Nature ; 
for, although she was considered the parent of so many evils, 
and herself a daughter of Chaos, she was also looked upon as 
the mother of mankind and of all other gods. But, let us 
return our thanks to Him from Whom she cometh, in connec- 
tion with every other good and perfect gift. 

" Robert Troup Paine. 
" Columbia College Grammar School, Jan. 25, 1847. 

" N. B. To be continued." 



Other essays upon Night were written, but of which frag- 
ments only remain. In one of them he considers Night " as 
applicable to that state of the mind which is darkened by igno- 
rance, or debased by superstition, cruelty, and vice." 



347 



THEME — AETICLE XXXVIII. 

" ' CHRISTMAS HOLIDAYS.' 

"The holidays commenced on Tuesday, December 23, 1845. 
The afternoon was agreeably spent in purchasing presents for 
my young relatives and friends ; and when I returned home 
with my freight, a stump of a clay-pipe and a little beard was 
all that was necessary to make me pass for that good and ven- 
erable old friend, Santa Claus. There was certainly no lack of 
toys ; for kaleidoscopes, dogs, rattles, whistles, trumpets, smell- 
ing-bottles, paint-boxes, and other things which once gave hap- 
piness to myself, ' were thrown over my back, and I looked like 
a pedlar just opening his pack.' The evening, I may truly say, 
I spent in joyful anticipation of the ensuing days ; for these 
were all that employed my thoughts, nay, I seemed as one rob- 
bed of all the powers of his mind. I then retired to my couch, 
where I spent the awful silence of the night in calm and peace- 
ful slumber. 

" The next morning I steered my course to Brooklyn, and, 
on my way thither, I observed nothing worthy of record, except 
the fountain in the Bowling Green, the appearance of which was 
truly sublime. The huge mass of rough and ponderous stones, 



348 

piled up in confusion, and which received but little adornment 
from the falling jet, was now decorated with a most splendid 
variety of icicles, some of them huge at their root and gradually 
tapering to a point, in some places resembling frozen foam, and 
the basin around one mass of ice, excepting here and there a 
leaden pipe was seen projecting through the frozen sheet, send- 
ing forth small columns of water, which served as a beautiful 
contrast with the surrounding objects. This was due to the 
accident of frost, which had thus changed a rude mass of stones 
into a magnificent spectacle. 

" Thus each season has its peculiar characteristics and enjoy- 
ments. Beautiful, however, as all this appears, it loses nothing 
as Spring advances, and yet the latter season brings a joyful 
contrast ; for, then, as the fetters fell from Peter while in the 
dreary cell of a prison, so Nature seems, as it were, to break 
loose from the rigid chain of Winter. The trees shoot forth 
their buds, the young plants peep above the ground, a mantle 
of green takes the place of the snowy-white. Now, too, the 
lambs may be seen skipping joyfully around their dams, the 
feathered warblers return again to pay us their annual visit, and 
to delight us with their songs while returning praise, as it were, 
to their Creator and Preserver. But Summer soon follows, with 
new sources of happiness, completing what Spring has begun, 
and presenting Nature in all her gayety. All is a scene of 
amusement and pleasure ; which may be universally realized in 
the squirrel when jumping with transports of joy upon the tops 



349 

of the stately trees, or the robin on some low bush pouring 
forth his melodious music. 

" ' See o'er the hills advancing, 
Like youth in morning prime, 
In verdant robes adorned with flowers 
We hail the Summer time. 
Her voice is as the voice of song, 
A hymn at opening day ; 
The echo of a thousand lyres 
As evening fades away. 

" ' The tall acacias waving 

Their feathery plumes on high, 
The maple, and the mountain ash, 
How lovely to the eye ! 
The cedar, in her fadeless green, 
The elm's luxuriant shade, 
With all the wilderness of bloom, 
So richly now displayed. 

" ' While roses blush in beauty, 
And lilies fair unfold 
Their glossy leaves of various hue, 
White, orange, blue, and gold ; 
The peony, with drooping head, 
Has bloomed a transient hour ; 
Now gently shaken in the breeze 
Descends a crimson shower. 

" ' The fragrant pink, of every shade 
From deepest red to pale, 
And sweet-brier, with its thorny stem, 
That scents the passing gale ; 



350 

The luscious strawberry crowns the board, 
And ripening cherries say 
The gatherer's hand may well be filled 
Upon some future day.' 

" Autumn conies, aud again how changed the scene, and yet 
every thing to gladden the heart. Nature gives up new beau- 
ties in the yellow sheaves of corn, and in various other rewards 
of agricultural industry. The birds, it is true, take their de- 
parture, but only for a season, and we know it is for hopes 
which they cannot realize with us. Oh ! how astonishing is all 
this ! Who does not behold with admiration such a scene of 
instinctive movements, — the long train of cackling geese, soar- 
ing in the dim regions of space, and the martin and the swallow 
gone on a determined day ! What tells them of the approach 
of cold and famine ? What guides their unerring way ? They 
understand not the movements of the heavenly bodies ; they 
have no landmarks for their undeviating course. They have 
no wisdom, no reason ; and, although we call it instinct, it is a 
knowledge from on high that the season of death (if I may call 
it so) is at hand in our clinie, but that beyond our borders are 
sunny lands of enjoyment ; and is not the same Alm ighty Hand 
observable in guiding their course through the trackless paths 
of air ? And what a lesson to man ! If God so take care of 
the birds, will He not much more take care of you, ' Oh ye of 
little faith?' If He have not given to man that amazing know- 
ledge through which He directs the migration of animals in 



351 

their pursuit of happiness, He has told him. of a far better 
Country, and marked out the path to that Land of Promise. 
So let the Bible be our guide, and lead the way to a more 
blessed place than this, aud let our praise, as incense, rise to the 
King Messiah. 

" True to the harbingers, winter comes again, and again the 
joyous youths are skimming, with their iron shoes, the surface 
of ponds, crossing each other's path as intricately as the Aste- 
roids intersect each other in their annual revolution. Such are 
but hints of what we see, and well may they lead us to exclaim, 
Oh God ! ' manifold are Thy works, and in Wisdom hast Thou 
made them all.' 

" I returned from Brooklyn at one o'clock, and at half past 
three I went to dancing-school. The question has often been 
asked, is dancing useful ? Does it give grace and ease to the 
movements of the body ? Were I to decide this point from a 
view of my own case merely, I should answer no ; for I have 
perceived no such effects upon my own person. Is it beneficial 
to health ? The response is, not so much as the more lively 
and animating amusements of the day. Nay, it is rather injuri- 
ous in the mode in which it is now often conducted. In hot 
rooms, and at late hours. Oh, the folly ! Oh, the madness ! 
Although it may not have any pernicious effects on those who 
only seldom indulge in the practice, it is otherwise with those 
who make it a habit ; for it is apt to sow the seeds of an early 
death, especially in females, soon weakening the frame of its 



352 

wretched victim, and causing her to pass the remainder of her 
days in sickness and sorrow* 

" I passed the evening of this day at a friend's house, in 
reviewing and anticipating ; and after a night of sweet repose, 
I awoke just as rosy-fingered Aurora shed her first beam over 
this happy land. It was Christmas, ' merry Christmas ! ' And 
while I repeat it, methinks I hear a startling sound — not of 
mighty rushing waters, not the rumbling of an earthquake, nor 
the whirlwind — but the voice of an Angel, saying, ' Fear not, 
for behold I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall 
be to all people. For unto you is born, this day, in the city of 
David, a Saviour, Which is Christ, the Lord ; ' ' And, immedi- 
ately, a heavenly Throng, singing, Glory to God in the highest, 
and on earth peace, good will towards men.' 

" As this day should not be considered as one to be wholly 
devoted to sport and amusement, I attended Church in the 
morning. Why, indeed, should not this day be held sacred, as 
the one on which our Lord, for our sakes, took upon himself the 
form of a Servant, having not where to lay his head ? The 
text was appropriate — ' Great is the mystery of Godliness ; 
God manifest in the flesh.' Yes, Christ is equal with the Father 
in the eternal Godhead. Still, His Father is greater than He ; 
but only so in the temporal and human acceptation. With the 
Holy Ghost, they are separate Persons in the Trinity ; and yet 

* Robert was always much averse to the dancing-school, and was soon withdrawn 
from it. He had always, too, equally a dislike of gay society, and steadily avoided it. 



353 

all Three are One. This is the mystery ; and yet it is no 
greater than Self-existence. And do not the Character and 
teachings of our Saviour bespeak Divinity ? Is any thing ' im- 
possible with God ? ' Nevertheless, Jesus Christ, "Who never 
but once before was seen by mortal eye, did, on this day, throw 
aside His robes of Glory and became a Babe ; a Babe, not laid 
in a king's house, not rocked in a cradle of silver or gold. No, 
there was no room for Him even at the inn. What ! no room 
for the Creator of the Universe ! No room for Him Who 
formed the shining stars, that galaxy, those multitudes of 
nebulae that adorn the nocturnal sky, and Who, in infinite 
Wisdom, marked out the orbits, and appointed the motions of 
the various planets and satellites ! No, a manger was the only 
place for the Lord of Life and Glory ! His birth was not an- 
nounced to the monarch, nor to princes. It was not announced 
to the warrior, nor to the mighty conqueror ; but 

" ' Shepherds, on Judea's plain, 
Heard ye not the blissful strain, 
When the messengers of light 
Broke the silence of the night ? ' 



" Therefore, 



"'Let us chant the solemn lay — 
Let us celebrate the day — 
Hail with joy the auspicious morn 
When the Son of man was born. 

45 



354 

" ' Then tell the wondrous story 
Where rolls Salvation's -wave, 
And give Him all the glory, 
Who came the lost to save.' 



" In the afternoon I went to my Uncle E 's, by invita- 
tion, where, after partaking of a sumptuous and social dinner, 
and after my annual distribution of presents, I amused myself 
for the rest of the day ; now in the pleasures of conversation, 
now in the animating sport of dominos, now in the intricacies of 
chess. Among the choice presents which I received was a copy, 
in French, of Plutarch's Lives, in fifteen volumes, given me by 
my Mother. After ten o'clock I returned home. Sweet home ! 
What place is there like home ? It is here that our wants are 
supplied, and our wishes gratified ; here we have friends to pity 
us in calamity, and to comfort us in sickness and misfortune ; 
here we have the company of our parents, until the cold hand 
of death severs the paternal tie, and the spirit returns to the 
God That gave it. Oh, the comforts of home ! But there are 
many, I say many, who appreciate not its blessings, until they 
have fled away like the noonday shadow. It is then that they 
rise before the offender, as it were in battalions, to remind him 
of the ingratitude of his early days, and floods of tears roll 
down his cheeks as he reflects upon a mother's care, or a 
father's watchful eye, and, in the grief of his heart he smites 
his breast, and exclaims, ' God be merciful to me a sinner.' 



355 

" ' Why does the mind, where'er we roam, 
Cling to the spot, our earliest home ? 
The hearth, the board, the social glee, 
Are fondly kept in memory. 

" ' The little group, so thoughtless, gay, 
The pastimes at the close of day, 
By grief untouched, unknown to sorrow, 
No sad forebodings of to-morrow, 

'• ' The mild rebuke, in kindness given, 
The lips that taught the way to Heaven, 
The watchful eye, the anxious care, 
The love unfeigned — all, all were there.' 



" On Friday afternoon I paid a visit to the Battery, to look 
out upon the beautiful Bay, and listen, if possible, to the roar 
of the Ocean ; that vast expanse of water which has withstood 
the ravages of time ; the mighty chain of Continents, the sport- 
ing-field of Leviathan and his myriads of subjects ; a won- 
drous spectacle that can infuse the utmost delight, or inspire the 
deepest awe in the breast of the beholder, or strike a deadly 
terror into the hardy and daring seaman. What thoughts and 
feelings must it awaken in the man, who, perhaps, is leaving for 
the first time his wife and children, to sail over its treacherous 
paths ! It is then that he thinks of the uncertainty of life. It 
is then, perhaps, he feels the first spark of anxiety, or the first 
flash of love towards his relatives and friends. It is then that 
he feels his dependence on Him Who alone is able to rule the 



356 

billows and the storm. It is then he feels that he is powerless 
himself, and unless upheld by a more Mighty Hand, he must go 
the way from which he never can return. 

" But, perhaps, he has none of these feelings. His heart 
may be of impenetrable stuff. And yet, what love cannot 
awaken, fear may do. Let but a storm arise, the rain descend 
in torrents, the lightning flash around him, the heavens roar 
above his head, and the billows sweep the deck, he will proba- 
bly be as much affected as Constantine was when he beheld the 
blazing cross. 

" In the evening I had company at home, and we passed 
our time very agreeably till the hour of rest. The next morn- 
ing, in company with a friend, I directed my course to the dis- 
tributing reservoir, and, just as Phaeton was mounting the hori- 
zon, we reached the destined spot. It was an animating scene, 
and the long walk had imparted a fresh and lively vigor. I 
was not satisfied ; but my companion left me for the City, while 
I went in pursuit of the enjoyment of a purer air, and, what 
might be gleaned from the country. It was not a scene, it is 
true, for the imagination of a poet. There was no carpet of 
emerald color, embroidered with flowers, and the trees were 
leafless. But I was treading upon snow that was not wanting 
in delightful associations ; for I could fancy that, in another 
form, it had been but lately dashed against the stones of Pat- 
mos, tossed in the surges of the Atlantic, or rolled in the billows 
of the Pacific. All was as still as night, excepting, now and 



357 

then, the barking of some distant dog, which served as a beau- 
tiful contrast with the rei°;nm°: silence. What was solemn and 
sublime in each increased the effect of each other. In short, it 
was a scene of the utmost pleasure that mortals can enjoy. I 
certainly cannot express, in words, my feelings on this occasion. 
Nay, it would require the melodious voice of an Archangel, or 
some other mysterious being from the Tabernacle of Heaven, 
to tell my thoughts, or my enjoyment during this solitary walk. 
Finally, I reached the second reservoir, but sought in vain for 
admittance at this early hour. I then retraced my steps, and 
when I reached home I had travelled more than eleven miles 
before breakfast. My dolphin* had passed the horn" of ten. 
Late, indeed, for breakfast, but better for the walk. This, how- 
ever, is not the usual opinion ; for a full stomach is commonly 
supposed to be the best state for exercise, and an empty one 
the worst. But such is not my experience. Every step before 
eating animates the frame, and gives additional strength to the 
great organs of life ; while, on the other hand, the useful effect 
of exercise, after the cravings of hunger are satisfied, is certainly 
diminished one half. 

" A portion of the afternoon I spent in writing this Compo- 
sition ; an unimportant circumstance, like the rest, but it is the 
method which I have adopted for my subject. I may say, 
therefore, that I passed the evening agreeably in playing chess ; 
a game which will endure till ' time shall be no more.' Why 



* His watch, in form of a dolphin. 



358 

should it not ? It is the game by which man is improved, the 
powers of the mind strengthened, and morality is even the bet- 
ter for it. It is the game that shows, at once, man's elevation 
above the brute. It throws open the best doors of society, 
insures a cordial welcome, and is a passport to a good player 
among all ranks of mankind. Strange to say, however, it has 
one peculiarity which accompanies no other intellectual pursuit ; 
that is, after the body has been violently exercised, the mind, 
as a general rule, becomes disqualified for this great and glori- 
ous sport.* 

" On Sunday morning I attended the Roman Catholic 
Church. This Church has been, perhaps, one of the greatest 
enemies to true and sincere Religion. At first sight, it may 
appear to be holy and undefiled ; and there are many, I say 
many, who follow its precepts and doctrines, that have never 
applied themselves properly to see whether they be right or 
wrong. Indeed, it is of such unhappy and deluded individuals 
that this Church is mostly composed. On a little careful exami- 
nation, however, it must be evident, one would think, to those 
who place any reliance upon the truth of the Scriptures, that it 
is only an ingenious system of idolatry, beginning with the wor- 
ship of a fellow-creature possessed of no more understanding, 

* At the age of twelve years, Robert played with accuracy and skill a part of a 
game (about twelve moves) with his back turned to the board. His parents moved 
the pieces ; and here they arrested the game from fear of its effect upon his brain, 
and the experiment was never repeated. (See Note, page 10.) 



359 



and no more power than ourselves, and makes her an intercessor 
between the Son of God and man ; when, too, every page, I 
had almost said every line of the New Testament, enforces it 
upon us, that Jesus Christ is the only Advocate between God 
and man, and that there is no one subordinate to Him. And, 
Oh, how terrible is the thought, and how deep the sin, that 
takes away from Him a portion of that high office, and bestows 
it upon a human being ! Upon one who was chided for seek- 
ing Him when lost, — ' Wist ye not that I must be about my 
Father's business ? ' And, Who ' answered them, saying, Who 
is my Mother % ' Aye, and ' He saith unto her, woman, what 
have I to do with thee ? ' 

" What means that incense, also, when it is expressly said, 
' Incense is an abomination unto Me % ' How mournful, more- 
over, to see the deluded victims bend the knee before a piece 
of wood in the shape of a Cross ! True, it is said in defence, 
that they bow to the Saviour through that wood, and that 
the mind is assisted through the senses. This is not so con- 
sidered in Heaven, for we read that, ' Abraham saith unto the 
rich man, they have Moses and the prophets ; let them hear 
them. And he said, nay, father Abraham ; but if one went 
unto them from the dead, they will repent. And Abraham 
said unto him, if they hear not Moses and the prophets, neither 
will they be persuaded, though one rise from the dead.' And 
so say I, neither will they be persuaded by any of these devices 
of man. Oh, how great is the deception that is here observa- 



360 



He ! But, if we admit that the enlightened are not beguiled, 
it is greatly to he feared that there are multitudes, not under- 
standing the object said to be designed, bow in honor of the 
wood itself. Another awful and horrid practice is that of con- 
fessing sins to a priest, in the belief that through his agency 
their very crimes are blotted out in Heaven ; or, should he say 
to them that they are not absolved, they are equally credulous. 
It is, however, said, that the priest does not exercise this inter- 
ference, but merely declares to his subjects, when he considers 
them sufficiently penitent, that they are pardoned by the Al- 
mighty. Oh, the delusion, the great delusion ! Who knowetk 
the mind of the Lord, or who can comprehend His ways ? Who 
can know when a person is sorrowful for his sins ; for repentance 
is the work of the heart, and not of the body, and who can 
search the soul of man save the Great I AM ? Moreover, none 
can expect absolution, unless he entreat forgiveness at the 
Throne of Heaven in the Name of the Son of God. The priest, 
therefore, is only entitled to say, that, if repentance be sincere 
it is accepted by Him Whom the sinner has offended. But we 
must be charitable towards this Church, and believe that the 
blame rests greatly with its officers. And is it not perfectly 
astonishing, when we cast a glance at their artful plans for sus- 
taining their religion, and keeping their victims under subjec- 
tion ? In the first place, they prohibit their congregation from 
reading the Scriptures, telling them that these writings are too 
holy for them to examine, and too deep for their minds to com- 



361 

prehend. Secondly, there are a multitude of deceptive forms, 
which are intended to inspire awe in the hearts of the people, 
and, we have reason to fear, more for the priest than for the 
religion. These, besides others, which neither my time nor 
your patience will allow me to state, are the devices resorted to 
by the officers of this Church. They have, indeed, the wisdom 
of serpents, but without the harmlessness of doves. (See page 
192.) 

" The text was uttered by the priest in so low a voice, that, 
probably, not a dozen in the church could have repeated it after 
him. The sermon, however, was an excellent one, except where 
the priest treated of Catholic persecution. He very coolly said 
that the Catholics had been the most persecuted people upon 
the face of the earth, that they had been driven into exile, 
burnt at the stake, and, in fine, had suffered every ignominy for 
the sake of their religion. Now, on tke otker hand, let us take 
a look at the Protestants, and see what cruelties they have 
undergone during the comparatively short time of their exist- 
ence. Look at the pages of history, survey them well, and you 
will find them shockingly stained with the tales of Protestant 
suffering. You will find that the priest has mistaken Protestant 
for Catholic, and that all his sorrow should have been given to 
the former. By whom, I say, was all this cruelty perpetrated ? 
Who was it that drenched the ground of England, and France, 
and Italy, with Protestant blood ? To them we say, as Nathan 
said unto David — 'Thou art the man ! ' Doubtless, Thou wilt 



362 

' let kirn be known in our sight by the revenging of the blood 
of Thy servants which is shed ; and will render unto our neigh- 
bors sevenfold into then- bosoms their reproaches wherewith 
they have reproached Thee, O Lord.' 

" In the afternoon I repaired to St. Mark's Church, where 
Religion is taught in its purity. But, although this society is a 
portion of the Episcopalian, and the Church has been widely 
separated from Romanism from the moment it declared its 
secession, I am much afraid, from the spread of Puseyism, that 
it is gradually returning to papal tyranny and superstition* 
But thanks be to God, if this course of things be arrested here, 
and the original purity of our religion again return, and the 
Church become firmly united by the bonds of friendship and 
fidelity. 

" The remainder of the day was agreeably spent in pleasant 
conversation, chess, and dominos. How great is the descent 
from the former to the latter game. It is like standing upon a 



* In Robert's record of sermons, to which reference has been made (page 28), 
after making a sketch of one delivered by the Rev. Dr. Anthon, at St. Mark's Church, 
on the morning of May 19, 1844, in which the Rev. Doctor took for his text — "For 
there is one God, and one Mediator between God and man, the Man Christ Jesus," 
and pointed out the fallacy of addressing prayers to the Virgin, and Saints, Robert 
finally remarks that, when the audience were leaving the Church, he " heard some 
one say that ' nobody would think of worshipping any being but God.' But it is pro- 
bable she forgot the stir made by the Puseyites, who believe in prayers to the Saints, 
in the City of New- York. I think," he adds, " that this Sermon ought to be pub- 
lished." 



363 

lofty precipice and jumping to the pleasant valley below. One 
is all mind, the other all chance ; one all silence, the other all 
talk. Neither, like cards, are used for the purpose of gambling. 
But, it must he said, in behalf of cards, that gambling is an 
abuse of the game, and has no more necessary connection with 
it than with chess, or the clerical game of backgammon. 
Amusement is one thing, and gambling is another. Perhaps 
I detest this crime as much as any of you here present. But I 
am considering the game of cards as it should be, according to 
the nature of the game itself. It certainly appears to have the 
objection of possessing temptations, as gambling has come to be 
connected with it. This, too, is not only a sin in itself, but 
leads to still greater ones ; and the perpetrator, step by step, 
may at last find himself in a prison, or suspended from the gal- 
lows. Cards have, undoubtedly, led to such a series of offences ; 
and but for them, men who would have proved good citizens, 
and useful to their country, have been gradually advanced from 
gambling to the highest pitch of crime. Card-playing is also 
liable to beget indolent habits ; and indolence, without gambling, 
may plunge a man into the deepest wretchedness. 

" Why these differences should exist among games, it is not 
easy for me to say. They are all upon one ground, considered 
as games ; and yet some are used for gambling, while others are 
rarely perverted to that use. One may require as much skill 
as another, and afford an equal interest ; yet the former is con- 
sidered immoral, while the other is universally approved. The 



364 

distinction seems to be more artificial than natural ; and it is 
probably in this usage that we must look for the morality of 
the one or of the other. 

" Tuesday morning I took a refreshing walk before break- 
fast to the first reservoir. All was silent, except now and then 
the sound of the sledge-hammer, or of some cart-wheel as it 
rolled along the hard and barren ground, broke like music upon 
the ear. It was even so. There was music in those sounds as 
they contrasted with the solemn stillness, and awakened their 
natural associations. They came from the joyful laborer, who 
was marking out new streets, and preparing the way for a beau- 
tiful and mighty City. And there, too, was an index of its 
future greatness, the aqueduct and reservoir. 

" In the evening I attended the exhibition of Mr. Lyon's 
school, at the Broadway Tabernacle. There was a very strik- 
ing difference among the speakers ; some of them making that 
vast house ring from end to end, while it was utterly impossible 
to say whether others were speaking English or Hebrew, until, 
by chance, near the end of their speech, I would sometimes 
catch a glimpse of our vernacular in an and, or an or, as it 
dropped a little more heavily from the mouth of the orator. 
There was one young gentleman whom you might well have 
imagined to have been Demosthenes disguised as a youth, but 
thundering with all the eloquence of his manly years. Not 
Cicero, do I say, but Demosthenes. What higher praise can I 
bestow ? Fellow Classmates ! Declamation is, at this clay, one 



365 

of the much neglected branches of knowledge. It is laid aside 
as a minor acquirement, scarcely deserving our attention. But, 
although it be thus disregarded, it is like a buried gem, which 
will for ever retain its resplendent brightness, and, whenever 
discovered, will again as ever adorn its possessor. It is this, 
wherever displayed, the public will most applaud. It certainly 
will. It cannot do otherwise. It is this that places you at 
once on a pinnacle above your fellow-men. It is this, in fine, by 
which you may attain an unending renown. You may say that 
you have not a voice. Take Demosthenes for your bright ex- 
ample. Behold him, at one moment, in his subterranean study, 
attending there to the improvement of his vocal powers ; at 
another, upon the sea-shore, striving to overcome the loud roar- 
ing of the deep. ' Go, then, and do likewise.' And now let us 
start together, and search for that pearl of great price, bearing 
in mind that whoever shall find it shall win a crown of glory 
for his head ; for the ways of eloquence, like those of wisdom, 
' are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace.' 

" "Wednesday, December 31st. The forenoon was spent in 
exercise and conversation, and a part of the afternoon was given 
to this composition. The evening was occupied in playing two 
games at chess ; the last of which was the most interesting that 
I ever played. It occupied a little more than two hours and a 
half. Near the end of it, my adversary had a knight and a 
bishop against my three pawns. Soon, however, I had the 
good fortune to make the queen, and consequently came off 



366 

victor. I had formed some thoughts of going to the theatre ; 
but while reflecting for a moment, methought I could hear a 
voice whisper in my ear — theatres, as they are at present con- 
ducted in this country, are very pernicious in their effects, as 
well as low and vulgar in their entertainments, and are generally 
frequented by the frivolous and unprincipled, since they are not 
calculated to afford pleasure to the polished and educated, as 
they were in former times. Such, indeed, has become the 
degradation of the stage, that, instead of a play in which virtue 
and religion are inculcated, you witness only some foolish per- 
formance intended merely to please the worldly and vulgar, 
and where, in the place of good sentiments, you often hear curs- 
ing, and sometimes swearing. Such, I am sorry to learn, and 
have been twice a witness, is the condition of the stage in the 
United States of America ; and I think you will agree with me 
that these are not only unsuitable places for cultivated people, 
but are merely the schools of Satan, and the colleges of iniquity. 
But, if the theatre, under its present management, be a highway 
to infamy and crime, it is not the intrinsic fault of the institu- 
tion, for it has enjoyed an elevated state. There were seen 
within its walls a polished, educated, and refined class of society. 
Then, instruction as well as amusement, was afforded by the 
play. But, even in this state of the stage, it is not creditable to 
have frequent recourse to the theatre ; but it is perfectly pro- 
per, and may prove highly advantageous to occasionally visit it. 
Every thing should be done in moderation, especially what is 



367 

not a direct duty. In this manner, even wine may promote 
health, and comfort, and improve the spirits of him that drinks 
it ; hut when used to excess, it is notoriously a rank poison. 

" The next day was New Year's ; a fruitful subject for very 
weighty reflections. Another year has been swept away by the 
everlasting hand of time, to be remembered only with those 
that shall be no more. What, another year expired ! Yes, 
gone into the awful abyss of eternity, never to be recalled. 
Yes, it died at the midnight hour, and vainly did I strive to 
grasp it, to detain it only for one moment longer. It would not 
stay ; no, it would not stay. What have been its scenes, its 
trials, and its events ! Where are many, who, three hundred 
and sixty-five days ago, were seated by the merry fireside, sur- 
rounded by joyful friends and kind relatives ? Ah ! they, too, 
have disappeared, some to shine as a diadem in the Saviour's 
Crown, others to have their portion in gloom and darkness, 
where pleasure never is, where hope never comes ; some to par- 
take of the joys of Heaven, others of the woes of hell. Where 
are some of those kind persons whom, but these few days ago, 
I wished a cordial, happy new year ? Where are they, I say ? 
They are gone ; and while I repeat it, methinks I hear a whis- 
per, — ' Blessed are the dead that die in the Lord.' What has 
been our conduct ? Can we look upon the past with tears of 
joy in our eyes, or is a fearful void presented to our view ? If 
the latter be the case, then let us form new resolutions for the 
future, this day, this hour. 



368 

" And now, fellow Classmates, I may hope that you began 
this year as agreeably, at least, as myself; for the forty visits 
which I made renewed many pleasant acquaintances, and gave 
me a chance of witnessing a great deal of happiness in others. 
Gentlemen talk of giving up this practice. But this should 
never be done, for the obvious reason of keeping up good feel- 
ings among friends, and of binding them more strongly in the 
bonds of friendship and fidelity. Doubtless, you will be also 
interested with knowing that I devoted the evening to chess ; 
and thus ended, with me, the first day of the year 1846. 

" What happened in the wide world on the following day, I 
can scarcely say, as I spent the greater part of it at home. But, 
I would call your attention to the menagerie, where I paid a 
visit in the evening, and where may be seen representatives of 
many climes, telling in their own peculiar way their own stories 
of each, and relating many marvellous things of themselves, 
from the porcupine, that defies the most ferocious, to the mighty 
king, whose roar 

' The forest beasts with horror fly, 
And echoes to the vaulted sky.' 

" I have but little to say in commemoration of Saturday, 
as it was mostly devoted to rambling in the country under a 
gloomy sky, and over muddy roads, and to writing composition. 
But I must tell you of the finishing touch to my amusements 
for the the holidays. This was the double game of chess, with 



369 

which I whiled away the evening. You will find it one of the 
finest sports that a young man can possibly have. It sets in 
operation the thinking powers, and strengthens the under- 
standing. 

" One thing I have neglected to mention. During my ad- 
ventures on New Year's day, while I happened to he at a cler- 
gyman's house, I heard an individual remark that the clerical 
order was entitled to more respect than any other class of men. 
This will depend entirely upon their purity and Christian de- 
portment. It is not their vocation, but the manner in which it 
is discharged, that can justify the claim. The minister of Reli- 
gion is one thing, and the man is quite another. The office 
demands respect in proportion to its fulfilment. But, if its 
duties be neglected, or its precepts violated, then we become 
participants just in proportion to the degree in which we ap- 
prove its ministers, or exalt them above other members of soci- 
ety. I do not now speak of individual exceptions, unless such 
instances are supported or tolerated by the Profession. For the 
same reason, there should be, at the same time, more charity 
towards each other in matters of opinion than exists among 
other classes of men, and of this they should exhibit public 
examples in their conventions and other meetings. If gross 
indecencies, and other outrages be committed by Clergymen, 
and they be afterwards allowed to remain connected with the 
holy calling, we must strive the harder to uphold the purity of 
Religion ; but we cannot do it by paying homage to the men. 



370 

No, far from it. I never, no, never will uphold a bishop, a 
minister, or any other officer of the Church in the commission 
of an offence against his calling, much less a crime, although he 
be my nearest relative, or of my own sect. No, he is worthy of 
the greater condemnation for perpetrating his crime under the 
cloak of Eeligion. He shall never ' win my confidence again,' 
for it is only the Searcher of hearts Who can truly know his 
sincere repentance. 

" Sunday, Jan. 4th, I attended Church twice. The text, in 
the morning, was the 10th verse of the 14th Chapter of Job — 
' Man dieth, and wasteth away ; yea, man giveth up the ghost, 
and where is he % ' The sentence of death has been passed, with 
only two exceptions, upon all mankind, so that we may truly 
say that all men die. The monarch, the beggar, the high and 
the low, the rich and the poor, all come under this general rule. 
' There is hope of a tree, if it be cut down, that it will sprout 
again, and that the tender branch thereof will not cease. 
Though the root thereof wax old in the earth, and the stock 
thereof die in the ground, yet through the scent of water it 
will bud, and bring forth boughs like a plant. But man dieth, 
and wasteth away ; yea, man giveth up the ghost, and where is 
he % ' "Where, do I say ? He either appears in the bosom of 
Abraham, or in Hell doth he open his eyes, desiring a drop of 
water to cool his burning tongue. 

"The text, in the afternoon, was the 11th verse of the 8th 
Chapter of Ecclesiastes — ' Because sentence against an evil 



371 

work is not executed speedily, therefore the heart of the sons 
of men is fully set in them to do evil.' Does not daily experi- 
ence show to us the truth of this ? Does not our own conscience 
convict us ? Does not each one of us often say, Oh well ! this 
will be certainly overlooked for once — surely so slight a crime 
will never be remembered against us ? It is not because the 
Almighty disregards the crime of sin that He does not give it 
immediate punishment. But, it is Mercy that intercedes for us. 
Were it not so, we should be swept away from the face of the 
earth by the very breath of a moment, and plunged into the 
dreadful void of Eternity. 

" Monday morning. I am sitting down and giving a finish- 
ing touch to this Composition. And now, let us apply our 
hearts unto knowledge ; remembering that if we sow in wis- 
dom, we shall reap honor and enjoyment, but if in ignorance, 
we shall reap trouble and despair. 

" Eobebt Teotjp Paine. 

"Columbia College Grammar School, Monday, Jan. 5, 1846." 



372 



THEME— AETICLE XXXIX. 

" ' PLEASURES OF CHRISTMAS AND NEW-YEAR.' 

" What a pleasure was it, on Christmas, to reflect that eigh- 
teen hundred and forty-three years ago, The Lord and Maker 
of all things condescended to be made manifest in the flesh, and 
that His birth was not announced to the mighty of the Earth, 
but to shepherds while they watched their flocks by night, and 
that they should have found Him wrapped in swaddling clothes 
and laid in a manger. What a pleasure, I say ; for what a prac- 
tical lesson of humility, what encouragement for the needy and 
friendless. And all this at the very beginning of the life of the 
Son of God. 

" It is a pleasure to give presents to our friends, and to 
think that we are keeping up a custom which took its origin at 
the birth of Christ. And well may our hearts throb with glad- 
ness when we shall hear the great I AM say, that, ' inasmuch as 
ye did it unto the least of these ye did it unto Me.' Children 
generally look forward with joy to Christmas, though not 
always on account of the event which happened on that day, 
which made angels and archangels sing — ' Glory to God on 
high, and on earth peace and good will towards men,' but be- 
cause it is a day of sport and frolic. 



373 

" When the twelve-striking clock beats the death-gong of 
the departing year, then issues forth the new-born one, delight- 
ing, as doth a giant, to run Ms course. A memorable day for 
the institution of that rite whicli gave place to the baptismal, 
beginning with Abraham and ending about the time of Jesus 
Christ. What a pleasure is it on this day to look back upon 
our conduct during the past year, and endeavor to recall the 

numberless mercies of God. 

" Robert Troup Paine. 

" Columbia College Grammar School, January, 1844." 



THEME — AETICLE XL. 

" ' THE THINGS THAT BELONG TO OTHERS PLEASE US MORE, AND THOSE 
WHICH ARE OURS ARE MORE PLEASING TO OTHERS.' 

" What is that dire passion, that rages in many a human 
breast, which moved the hissing fury, Alecta, to roam among 
the peaceful inhabitants of Latium, infusing Gorgonian poisons, 
stirring up strife and war, and embroiling the surrounding 
nations in the same wretchedness and carnage ? Why were 
the winds unlocked by the idle curiosity of the companions of 
Ulysses, and why did they wreak devastation upon all sides but 
upon the ship alone which bore the hero ? What is that which 
renders the highest station in life inferior to a more humble 



374 

grade ? What that which makes the most wealthy monarch 
poorer than the poorest subject, or Dives at the banquet than 
Lazarus at the gate ? What led Charles the Fifth to exchange 
an empire for a monastery ? Why did Solomon bewail his 
riches, his power and greatness, and, at last, turn himself to 
idolatry ? What led our first Parents to eat of the forbidden 
fruit ? 

" Surely, was it not discontent, the bane of human life ? 
These are only strong examples of its influences, which, like 
those of other evils, are seen in all parts of our globe, and too 
generally in all stages and conditions of life. Indeed, if it 
make its appearance at all, it generally does so in early youth. 
It is witnessed in the child as soon as it can articulate ' I don't 
like this, I don't like that ; ' and even before lisping begins, a 
' crying-spell ' is frequently an indication of this untoward emo- 
tion. But these are merely sparks, which, if not quenched here, 
are destined to increase into a mighty flame that will, in after 
life, render its possessor weary of existence, and an object of 
odium to all around him. Such is the beginning. Indulgence 
or neglect will do the rest. 

" Nor is this unhappy spirit confined to individuals ; nor are 
they alone its victims, or alone the authors of evil to others. It 
has been the primary cause of the downfall of many a nation. 
Such as have been once the terror of the Earth it has laid in 
dust and ashes. Before civil history begins we have an exam- 
ple of the kind even in God's own people. And what an exain- 



375 

pie, or, rather, series of examples ! How often did they com- 
plain against Moses and Aaron, and that, too, soon after their 
mighty deliverance from the hand of their cruel oppressor — 
after they had seen their enemies swallowed up in the deep, had 
witnessed the piling up of the waters, and had walked ' through 
the depths ' upon which those waters had rested. ' They remem- 
bered not the multitude of God's mercies, but provoked Him at 
the Sea, even at the Red Sea.' And how often, in consequence 
of the same spirit of discontent, were they chastised by pesti- 
lence, thousands upon thousands perishing in a day ! For what 
else did the host of Israel fall in the wilderness ; none, save 
Caleb and Joshua, of the original emigrants, reaching the land 
sworn to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob ? Did they not, as a fin- 
ishing stroke to their fate, persist in desiring a king, until the 
Almighty, in His Anger, granted them the object of their wish- 
es, although He had previously warned them, in the strongest 
words, of the dangerous and ruinous effects which such a change 
was calculated to have upon that unhappy people ? Royalty 
established, the way was paved for their ruin. The wealth, and 
pomp, and the power of a monarchy, were well adapted to turn 
away their hearts from every thing that was moral to the com- 
mission of lewd and horrible crimes. Wliat has since followed 
may be traced up to the same principle. Discontent, though 
not the immediate, was still the primary cause of the final 
rejection and destruction of this once mighty and favored 
nation. 



376 

" But the fiend stops not here in its general ravages. "What 
shall we say of Greece, and of Koine ; successively the masters 
of the world, before whose power other nations trembled, and 
kings became as nothing ? Where are those Cities that were 
once the centre of power, magnificence, and wealth ? Where 
are those countries that so lately wielded the sceptre over the 
lands of the Earth ? They have fallen to the dust, are but 
little better than the habitation of the cormorant and the bit- 
tern, containing few monuments of their former grandeur, but 
many of the luxury and vice of their wretched people. Was 
it not discontent that prompted Greece and Rome to extend 
their happy empires by bloody battle and unjustifiable slaugh- 
ter ; the Great Alexander, notorious murderer ; the cruel Cae- 
sars, with their other respective conquerors, to drench the Earth 
with blood and the tears of the mourning ; to bring kings that 
were ruling in tranquillity into chains and slavery ? This done, 
the current of luxury and depravity that was continually flow- 
ing in from the subjugated provinces, together with the horrid 
state of affairs which this abandonment of all that was just and 
moral must necessarily have produced, were more than enough 
to have overwhelmed, in their destructive flood, these lands of 
tyranny. Oh, Greece and Rome ! Had you been content with 
the territory of your noble ancestors, refraining froin blood and 
conquest, cultivating arts and sciences, and pursuing avocations 
that elevate and expand the mind, then might be heard in your 
land, at this day, other voices like those of Demosthenes and 



377 

Cicero ; other moralists wiser than Socrates might be uttering 
their wisdom in your streets ; other poets, as renowned as Ho- 
mer, Virgil, and Horace, would have carried on your immor- 
tality in epic and lyric strains ; and you might have bounded 
your fame and existence by the end of time. 

" Oh, America ! America ! Art thou beginning, in these thy 
early days, to taste this same deadly poison ; a poison to thy 
vitals, thy fame, and thy morals ? Art thou, too, already dis- 
satisfied with the confines of thy vast and thrice happy land ? 
Art thou beginning to encourage a wanton waste of human 
life ? Art thou now engaged in a fierce and unprofitable war 
of aggrandizement ? Unprofitable, do I call it ? Though it 
may seem in thy mouth as sweet as honey, it shall be in thy 
belly as bitter as gall. Oh, that such had ended with the pagan 
Greeks and Romans ! Dost thou not fear that it may render 
thee unworthy of the name bestowed upon thee by one of the 
most powerful Kingdoms, a name never before applied to any 
people, the name of ' The Great Nation ' ? How unworthy of 
the spirit of 1776 ! That was the spirit of Patriotism, Liberty, 
and Equity ; this, of tyranny, discontent, and avarice ! And 
how incompatible with the glorious light of the Gospel, with 
which thou professest to be illuminated ! Has that Gospel 
never taught thee the value of human life ? Hast thou never 
thought upon the fact that a whole world is not worth the sacri- 
fice of an innocent drop of blood ? Hast thou never considered 
how many thousands of thy countrymen are laying down their 



378 

lives for thee, in the delusion of doing honor to thy greatness ; 
unconscious that plunder is thy object ? If thou hast not, learn, 
then, to ' love thy neighbor as thyself' If thou wouldst pros- 
per, ' go and sin no more.' Let thy fame, in war, America, 
begin and end with Washington ! Thou hast already achieved 
more than any other nation has, or will. Let this suffice thee. 
No other victories can add to thy glory or happiness. All 
others are beneath thy dignity, and a blight upon thy ultimate 
prosperity. All the conquerors thou canst ever produce will be 
less in comparison with Washington than a grain of sand to the 
Universe. Let him stand first and alone in thy midst ; first 
among ten thousand heroes ; superior to all that ever have, or 
will exist, combined. No, America, it is for thee to build upon 
the fame of the Revolution another far excelling that ; one 
which no arms can beget, no battle win, but science and litera- 
ture alone. Let these be thy jewels, Oh, America ! Take for 
thy motto, ' Knowledge is power.' 

" Although I have drawn this gloomy picture of discon- 
tent, let it not be supposed that there is no spot on the Earth 
which it does not sway ; that there is no heart into which it 
has never entered ; that there is not for this viperous poison 
an all-sufficient antidote, which, if administered in due time, 
may save its drooping subject though even upon the brink of 
the grave, may heal those broken in spirit, give relief to the 
afflicted, and wipe away tears from the eyes of the mourning. 
Yes,— 



379 

" ' There is a jewel which no Indian mine can buy, 
No chemic art can counterfeit ; 
It makes men rich in greatest poverty, 
Makes water wine, turns wooden cups to gold, 
The homely whistle to sweet music's strain. 
Seldom it comes, to few from Heaven sent ; 
That much in little — all in thought — content' 

" Heavenly Virtue ! Celestial being ! It is by thee ' kings 
reign and princes decree justice,' the nation is established, the 
sceptre confirmed, and existence prolonged. Look at contented 
China ; vast, ignorant, and happy, but contented. She dates 
her origin in immemorial time. She saw the beginning, the 
concpiests, and the fall of the Jews. She saw the first days of 
Cicropian Athens, Lelegian Sparta, and all the powerful nations 
of the Greeks, their rise in fame, their fortune in war. She 
looked unmoved upon the conquests of Darius, Cyrus, Xerxes, 
and Alexander. There was no jealousy there. Thou lookedst 
on with complacency, China, when nations were brought into 
being long after thyself, and rose to a glory far above thine 
own. But, China, thou hast followed them to the grave ; thou 
hast placed them upon the funeral pile, and hast performed the 
last duties of a friend. And why have these people, the coun- 
trymen of Homer and Demosthenes, once the terror of the 
world, been cut down like the young and tender flower, and 
thou, China, art yet permitted to raise thy head among the 
mighty of the Earth ? Because, Greece knew how to die, but 
thou knowest how to live. 



380 

" One word more for thee, America, and I have done. Let 
this lesson be laid up in the deep recesses of thy soul, and may 
it be good and lasting in its effects. Make contentment thy 
sister ; engrave her upon the tablets of thy heart ; and thou 
shalt find in her a 'price above rubies,' and she 'shall be an 
ornament of grace unto thy head, and chains about thy neck.' 

" Robert Troup Paine. 

" Columbia College Grammar School, Nov. 19, 1846." 



THEME — ARTICLE XLL 

" ' WHAT MOST WE WISH WITH EASE WE FANCY NEAR.' 

" There has existed in the mind, ever since the fall of man, 
an attribute which we term hope, or wish. Nay, was it not the 
very cause of his fall ? Had he not hoped for something better 
than he enjoyed, there had been no transgression. It seems, 
therefore, to have been impressed upon the original nature of 
man, and to have been the origin of sin. And why was this 
so ? Certainly not that sin might come into the world. It was 
given to man for good and not for evil purposes. It was in- 
tended to conduct him to Heaven and not to hell. There was 
thus an imperfection in man from the very beginning. It is so 
even with the Angels, or there could have been no fall there. 
It was necessary to our proper understanding of the perfection 



381 

of the Creator. The contrast was wanted, and was implied by 
the prohibition enjoined upon our first Parents. But it could 
have existed in a state of consciousness only ; for the same pro- 
hibition denoted what we all knew to be true, that is, an ability 
to have done what was right, and aloug with this freedom of 
will was associated conscience, or ability to distinguish between 
right and wrong. This would have been sufficient to have 
shown the difference between perfection and imperfection, to 
have kept mankind in the way of duty, and to have inspired a 
love of God as a Being free from evil. Hence why so much is 
said of faith. To meet the sin of disobedience a merciful provi- 
sion was at the same time made in opening a way to repentance 
and salvation. But, transgression having once begun, the enjoy- 
ment of self-will once felt, it was agreeable to our nature that 
man should continue to seek an improvement of his condition, 
or yield, at least, to his feelings of independence, and hope 
ripened at once into rebellious sin. That is my opinion of the 
origin of sin ; that it was founded in benevolence towards the 
creature, that he might the better understand the perfection of 
his Creator. But ' I speak after the manner of men.' * 

* Our first Parents were forbidden to do evil, and it was not likely, therefore, that 
other laws would deter mankind from the commission of sin. Still ' they were added 
because of transgressions, till the seed should come to whom the promise was made. 
If there had been a law given which could have given life, verily righteousness should 
have been by the law. But the Scripture hath concluded all under sin, that the pro- 
mise by faith of Jesus Christ might be given to them that believe. But before faith 
came, we were kept under the law, shut up unto the faith which should afterwards be 



382 

" The Majesty of Heaven stood thus before our first Parents; 
and, although in this manner ' they knew God, they glorified 
Him not as God, neither were thankful, hut became vain in 
their imaginations, and their foolish heart was darkened.' Pun- 
ishment followed upon the offences ; but still the desire of 
something better than God had ordained, especially of what 
He had prohibited, went on increasing, till ' He gave them up 
to uncleanness, through the lusts of their own hearts.' Finally 
the Deluge comes, and mankind began anew. But all this 
would not answer. The old propensities continued, and wick- 
edness again increased by its indulgence. It was the same 
thing when the Israelites demanded that ' a king should reign 
over them when the Lord their God was their King,' and the 
same when ' the Lord said to Samuel, hearken unto their voice, 
and make them a king,' as when Eve partook of the forbidden 
fruit. She wanted something better than happiness, and the 
Jews wanted a better king than God ; and the wishes of both 
were granted. There was an increasing hankering after some- 
thing forbidden both by law and conscience, while, also, 'the 
invisible things of Him from the beginning of the Creation of 



revealed. Wherefore the law was our school-master, to bring us unto Christ, that we 
might be justified by faith. But, after that faith is come we are no longer under a 
school-master.' But truth and conscience and Nature have always been the same, 
and we may so far say equally to the earliest as to the latest of our race, ' Who did 
hinder you that ye should not obey the truth ? This persuasion cometh not of Him 
That calleth you.' 



383 

the world were clearly seen, being understood by the things 
that were made, even His eternal Power and Godhead ; so that 
they were without excuse.' Punishments and mercies were still 
as useless as ever. Something better was desired than truth 
and the bounties of Providence. 'They changed the truth of 
God into a He, and worshipped and served the creature more 
than the Creator ; and for this cause God gave them up to vile 
affections,' ' gave them over to a reprobate mind,' ' who, know- 
ing the judgment of God, that they which commit such things 
are worthy of death, not only do the same, but have pleasure 
in them that do them.' And how is it in these days ? Let our 
own generation say. 

" Such, then, in part, is what I imply in the word wish, or 
hope. But it may equally aim at some real improvement, some- 
thing better in morals and Religion, some relief from suffering 
or want, or some rational increase of happiness. But, which- 
ever it may be, whether for good or evil results, it is the same ; 
always hope of something better. It is this which rules the 
affairs of men. It is Hope, the oldest goddess, that works to 
will and to do. She presides every where, from the throne to 
the dungeon, and from the dungeon to the death-bed. What 
lies at the foundation of Governments ? What covers the ocean 
with fleets, and drives them from one continent to another?- 
What has occasioned the great change that this country has 
experienced during the few past centuries ? What has changed 
its forests into populous Cities ? What has settled it so thickly 



384 

with the white man ? What has introduced into it the arts and 
sciences ? What the love of literature and learning ? What, I 
say, has "brought about this mighty revolution ? Hope ! Had 
Columbus not taken Hope for his pilot, his ship would have 
never left the port. Had he not been animated by her, he 
would have been terrified by his crew. In a word, had it not 
been for Hope, this country would still have remained a deso- 
late waste, wrapped in superstition and mental darkness. 

" Hark ! Methinks I hear the voice of music. It is the 
sound of a distant hymn. Methinks I see the bowing knee. 
What mean they ? I say, it is hope and gratitude combined. 

" I have stated that hope has been the common attribute of 
the human mind ever since man's creation ; that it is present in 
every deed, and in every thought ; that, whatever a man does, 
it is with an idea that it will be productive of good either to 
himself or his neighbor ; that it is absent from no situation, no 
station in life ; that the poorest wretch has as great a share of 
it as the proudest Monarch. But, I have never said, nor never 
will, that we always expect what we wish. Did not Adam, 
when driven from the garden, desire to enter its blessed con- 
fines again, although the Cherubim, and the flaming sword, 
drove expectation to despair — trembling with horror ? Did 
not Jacob, when the coat of many colors was presented to him, 
drenched, as he thought, with the life-blood of his beloved son, 
desire (and what could he desire more) once more to lay his 
eyes upon him, the object of his affections ? But, how did it 



385 

mock his utter despair, when he exclaimed — 'An evil beast 
hath devoured him. Joseph is without doubt rent in pieces ! ' 
The pages of sacred and civil history abound with such exam- 
ples, and they are examples, too, of what is occurring in the life 
of every individual. Is not man now what man was ; and will 
he not remain the same until the rapid car of time shall have 
reached its goal ? Cannot hope exist now without the least 
shadow of expectation, as well as six thousand years ago ? Is 
not hope an inmate of every dungeon, even when the realms of 
despair ? This, however, is not essential to our subject, though 
one of its remarkable features. But, the most remarkable of 
all is the controlling influence of a Power Who gives to hope 
its promise, or turns it to disappointment ; Who renders its 
ends useful, or permits them, for the present at least, to be pro- 
lific of woe. 

" Eobert Troup Paine. 

" Columbia College Grammar School, , 1846." 



386 



THEME— AETICLE XLH. 

" 'PROCRASTINATION.' 

" How disgusting must it be to the conscience of a man 
who is prone to this great evil, to reflect, at the end of each 
day, that new duties have been left undone, and old ones have 
not yet been accomplished, and that, if he do not alter his 
course of life, his procrastination will turn into idleness, and 
that, at last, he must be plunged into irremediable ruin. It is 
true, he may flatter himself with hope ; but the examples 
around him can scarcely fail to awaken his apprehensions. 

" "We. are here for a few years to prepare ourselves for eter- 
nity. Youth is especially the season for this preparation ; the 
time in which the seeds of future happiness must be sown. If 
delinquent, therefore, in our duties then, how can we have en- 
joyment hereafter ? How can we expect to reap now, or in the 
world to come, where we have not sown, and gather where we 
have not strewed ? If any of you have permitted the weeds of 
procrastination to spring up in your minds, cast them out, and 
depend upon it, you can have no profitable harvest till you 
have planted the seeds of goodness and usefulness. 

" Robert Troup Paine. 

" Columbia College Grammar School, May 27, 1844." 



387 



THEME— AETICLE XLIII. 



"'capital punishment.' 



" If we examine the pages of history, both Sacred and civil, 
we shall find among almost all nations, notwithstanding the 
many wars and contentions that have arisen, that there has 
generally existed a reverential regard for the life of a human 
being, and that a cold-blooded murder has generally met with 
the severest punishment. This has been common in savage as 
well as civilized society. At any rate, we shall see that in the 
laws of almost all communities, the crime above mentioned 
stands at the head of all others as the one of the deepest die, 
and that its perpetrator has been doomed to suffer the most 
rigid penalties, although now and then, through the violence of 
party spirit, or the partiality of judges, the offender has been 
allowed to go unpunished. 

" This respect for life, and the guilt that attends its destruc- 
tion, are particularly shown in the murderer himself ; for, 
although he may go unpunished by the hand of man, or his 
crime remain unknown until, in the bitterness of his grief, he 
may acknowledge it upon his dying bed, he is not without his 
penalty. There is something within his bosom which continu- 



388 

ally pricks and goads Mm, something which ceases not to bring 
up his offence and present it fresh to his memory. It is the 
sting of conscience, a spark of that fire which never shall be 
quenched, a similitude of that worm which dieth not. To 
whatever place he turns, to whatever region he goes, there the 
tormentor follows him. It is within his breast ; it is a part of 
his being, a part of himself. Oh, wretched creature ! ' There 
is no peace, saith my God, to the wicked.' 

" Having thus shown the value of life, and the light in 
which it is regarded by mankind, let us now proceed to ascer- 
tain the measures which should be taken to preserve it from 
the outrages of daring and unruly men. The propriety of capi- 
tal punishment has, for some time, taken up the attention of 
the civilized world. The topics commonly discussed under this 
head are, first, the right of government to inflict the punish- 
ment of death ; secondly, the expediency of such punishment ; 
thirdly, the crimes to which, if any, it may be most properly 
applied ; fourthly, the manner in which it should be inflicted. 

" The right of society to punish offences against its safety 
and good order cannot be doubted by any considerate person. 
By the laws of Nature, individuals have a right to guard them- 
selves, their property, and their lives, from injury and violence. 
If a person attempt to take the life of another, the latter has an 
undoubted privilege to protect himself against the assault by 
all means within his power ; and, if he cannot secure himself 
except by taking the life of the assailant, he has assuredly the 



389 

right so to do. If this be denied, self-preservation must be for 
ever laid aside, and we should lay ourselves open to every sort 
of indignity, and insult. Nay, it would be the same as laying 
our heads upon the block, to let him that pleases come and 
strike them off. But who is he that would permit another to 
destroy him so long as he may be able to prevent it ? You 
may roam from Arctic to the Antarctic, but you will not find 
him. No, you will not find him. What is this, then, but pun- 
ishment by death ? The punishment is the same in both the 
cases. It differs only in the mode of inflicting it. Why, then, 
I ask, has not a community or nation a right to invest its public 
officers with the power of administering this penalty ; for what 
does it signify whether an offender be requited by the individ- 
ual whose life he attempts, or by some person appointed for 
the purpose after he has succeeded in perpetrating the crime % 
Is it not, moreover, fully as much an act of self-preservation in 
the case of a community as in that of an individual ? And let 
me ask, is not the protection of the former of as much impor- 
tance as the safety of the latter ? I appeal to reason for the 
answer. The reply is in the affirmative. We arrive, therefore, 
at the conclusion, that punishment administered by the public 
authority is as much in accordance with the rules of equity, and 
as much a matter of self-defence, as taking the life of a highway 
robber in the more summary manner. 

" My opponents may say, that, when an individual is attack- 
ed by the daring burglar, or by the cold-blooded murderer, he 



390 

has no other resort than that of terminating the life of his 
assailant ; hut that, when the murderer escapes and is detected 
after the commission of his crime, the dreary cell will answer 
the same purpose as the gallows, and, therefore, to make use of 
the latter would be a wanton destruction of human life. But 
it must he remembered that all punishment is inflicted more 
with a view of deterring others from crime than of chastising 
the malefactor. Besides which, it should be borne in mind that 
the penalty of death must necessarily strike a greater terror of 
the commission of capital crimes, than the most gloomy dungeon 
that art can devise. There is no prison without hope, and this 
hope of ultimate escape would be felt by the murderer before 
he inflicts the blow ; but he knows that the iron grasp of death 
will never relinquish its hold. Moreover, a murderer, or a 
pirate, confined in prison, is likely to give rise to public excite- 
ment, often to great and corrupt efforts to obtain his release, 
perhaps to open quarrels, or even to riotous mobs. 

" Let us now examine the subject in a moral point of view. 
Many may say, because human life is regarded as sacred by 
The Almighty, that there is no crime, however great it may be, 
that will justify its destruction. We might just as well affirm, 
because the soul of man is of inestimable value in the eyes of 
God, insomuch that He gave His only begotten Son to die for 
its preservation, that there will be no punishment in the world 
to come. Allow this, and we may throw the Bible aside. There 
will be no sin ; because, whatever we do we are going straight 



391 

to Heaven. There could be no law ; for ' sin cometh of the 
law,' and ' the wages of sin is death.'' The rule, according to the 
early law given to the Hebrews, was, that ' he that sheddeth 
man's blood, by man shall his blood be shed.' Many may say, 
that the Old Testament is not the guide for our conduct. I 
would answer that it is in those things which are not changed 
in the New Testament. They may reply, that, according to its 
own words, we should abolish capital punishment as contrary to 
the doctrines of the Christian Eeligion. It is true, our Saviour 
says, ' Do ye unto others as ye would that others should do unto 
you ; ' ' When thine enemy smiteth thee upon one cheek, turn 
to him the other also.' But, this certainly does not forbid capi- 
tal punishment, for, if it forbid that, it forbids all punishment ; 
and this, as I have said before, would be the same as laying our 
heads upon the block. Nay, all would be a scene of murder 
and devastation. This, therefore, could not have been the 
meaning of Him Who is called ' The Prince of Peace.' It 
rather teaches us not to be continually troubling others, and 
thwarting and bringing their plans to naught ; not to be vexed 
and to fly into a passion at every trifle which may turn up 
during our worldly career, but to bear with patience any little 
thing which may happen contrary to our wishes. Eead the 
parable of the talents, and some other things said by our Sa- 
viour, and you will see an adaptation of punishment to the 
nature of the offence, both now and hereafter. But there is 
this difference. In the present world it is strictly punishment, 



392 

and designed for the public good, or for individual reformation. 
In a future life it can scarcely be called punishment, because it 
flows naturally from a sense of guilt and from the inability of 
the unrighteous to enjoy the things of Heaven, and without any 
view to reformation or to the good of others. 

" My opponents, however, may say that to hang the mur- 
derer is sending a soul unprepared to meet its Judge. This 
need not be. There generally is, and always should be allowed 
to the condemned an interval of from six months to a year 
before his execution. This is ample time ; for a day, nay, less 
than a day may raise a man from death to life, who is truly 
sorrowful for his sins, and places full confidence in the blood of 
The Lamb. He may be called in at the eleventh hour, and 
enjoy everlasting bliss in the regions above. Remember the 
reply of our Saviour to the dying thief. But I would not be 
thought, by what I have said, to be in favor of delaying repent- 
ance until the late hour of death. No, far froni it. I would 
have all live as if to live for ever, and live as if to die to-day. 

" Capital punishment ought, however, to be limited to those 
crimes by which life is either lost, or stands in great jeopardy ; 
such as murder, arson, piracy, highway robbery, burglary, and 
sometimes treason. All, too, should equally suffer ; the high, 
the low, the rich, and the poor. 

" Finally, we are to consider how this punishment should be 
inflicted. All cruelties, such as burning, starving, crucifixion, 
and the like, ought to be for ever discarded, as they are, in 



393 

themselves, sins of the deepest dye, and a foul reproach to any 
nation. Having set these aside, among the milder modes of 
punishment by death, hanging and shooting may he regarded 
as the shortest and least painful, and should he, therefore, 

always employed. 

" Robert Troup Paine. 
" Columbia College, March 8, 1846." 



THEME — AETICLE XLIV. 

" ' THE EVILS OF "WAR.' 

" Man was first created in a state of innocence, in the Image 
of his Maker, and was placed in a garden to dress and to keep 
it ; Nature's noblest employment. It was a garden not planted 
by the sweat of the brow. It was planted by Him "Who made 
the heaven, and earth, the sea, and all that in them is. It was 
not a garden cultivated by incessant labor, attended by vexa- 
tion and disappointment. No ; we have reason to believe that 
the nursing of it was a matter of recreation and amusement. 
Such was the place first inhabited by man and his consort. 
They, too, were well suited to such a place, for they were made 
only a little lower than the Angels, and crowned with glory 
and honor, and had dominion over all terrestrial things. And 
now, who may undertake to utter the enjoyment that was espe- 



394 

rienced there, or the gratitude that was there poured forth ? 
Who cau describe the feelings that pervaded the heart of man 
in this state of innocence, enjoying the smiles of an unoffended 
God, and surrounded by all the gayety that Nature can possi- 
bly display. To describe this happy scene would have defied 
the imagination of Homer, and have baffled the pencil of the 
great Apelles. This blessed condition, however, man was soon 
obliged to forfeit ; for woman, not contented with the multitude 
of delicacies which she enjoyed, was, ere long, persuaded to try 
for something better, especially something prohibited. Truly 
hath the Latin poet said, ' varium et mutabile semper foemina.' 
At this moment, sin, death, hell, and all the curses and evils 
that infest our being, were ushered into the new-born world, 
delighting, as doth a giant, to run their course. Then, all Na- 
ture seemed, as it were, in a state of gloom and utter despair • 
for man, who, a short time ago, was endowed with immortal 
happiness, is now lost, lost for ever. But, stop. While Adam 
was in this state of deepest anguish, he heard proclaimed to the 
serpent by a voice from on high, ' I will put enmity between 
thee and the woman, and between thy seed and her seed ; it 
shall bruise thy head, and thou shalt bruise his heel.' Glori- 
ous promise ! Made at the very fall of man, and accomplished 
in due time, fully in accordance with the words uttered by The 
Almighty. 

" Now, one of the consequences of that unhappy event is 
war. Yes, that bane of human life, that enemy of all happiness 



395 

and enjoyment, took its rise from that act of disobedience. 
Yes, we can trace its course from that time down to the present 
moment. It was the same spirit which prompted the murder 
of Abel, the same that brought about the destruction of Jerusa- 
lem, the downfall of Greece, and a multitude of similar calami- 
ties. It is this which causes one nation to decay, and another 
to spring up upon its ruins. It is this, in fine, which rules the 
fate of kingdoms, and the destinies of empires. 

" Let us now, for a moment, turn our attention to the evils 
of war. These are of two kinds, physical and moral. In every 
battle there are two parties, the conquerors and the conquered. 
While the one party exults in victory, the other is reduced to 
wretchedness. The latter display the effects. Their country is 
plundered, their houses are burned, their olive-yards and vine- 
yards are demolished, and they themselves are visited by 
famine, or are led away in chains by their proud and insolent 
foes to a miserable slavery. Such, at least, is the history of all 
but the little band of Christians ; and how fiercely will they 
fight, and only stop short of absolute oppression ! There is also 
much wailing and sorrow occasioned on the side of the victors. 
Although the great body of them may rejoice, still in many 
a dwelling there are silent tears poured out by a fond mother, 
an affectionate father, a dutiful son, and many a gray head is 
brought down in sorrow to the grave. Its bad influences are 
also observable in the arts, sciences, and all literature. How 
many have perished in battle who would otherwise have proved 



396 

the greatest and brightest ornaments in the scientific world; 
who would have shown brighter in that horizon than yon blaz- 
ing sun in the vast canopy of heaven ! Besides, when nations 
are engaged in war, they are withheld from making improve- 
ment in what is likely to prove useful to them, and to all pos- 
terity. But the greatest, and most fearful consequence I have 
neglected to mention ; its effect upon the immortal soul. How 
many millions have been ushered into the presence of their 
Judge with little or no preparation for such a meeting, and, at 
the very moment of their death, in the heat of the conflict, 
tossed with the fury of passion, and cherishing hatred of many, 
and deep enmity towards their foes ! 

" Now we come to the immorality of war. We can plainly 
perceive that battle is in direct opposition to the fundamental 
laws of the Christian Religion ; for, by these we are enjoined 
to ' live peaceably with all men as much as lieth in our power.' 
And what meaneth this — ' Now abideth these three, faith, 
hope, and charity, but the greatest of these is charity ' ? Is it 
not, therefore, truly astonishing that nation should rise against 
nation, and kingdom against kingdom, and this, too, from almost 
insignificant causes ? May we not well exclaim, ' Why do the 
heathen rage, and the people imagine a vain thing ? ' Yes, war 
is a vain thing ; for, in prospect it is animating, and promises 
good, but delusive in the end, when, too late, its votaries bit- 
terly lament their wickedness and folly. If war must be the 
' ultima ratio regum,' it should be the last means of settling 



397 

difficulties between nations. But, may the time come when 
wars, and rumors of wars, may cease for ever, and the wolf 
dwell with the lamb, and the leopard lie down with the kid, 
and the calf, and the young liou, and the fatling together ; and 
when a little child may lead them. 

" Robert Tboup Paine. 
" Columbia College Grammar School, Feb. 2, 1846. 

" Postscript. — Some of you, perhaps, may ask me what 
alms-giving has to do with war. To such I would reply that 
' charity ' first bore the meaning of love, and was not used in 
the acceptation in which it is now generally understood. For 
St. Paul himself says that, 'although he bestow all his goods 
to feed the poor, and though he give his body to be burned, 
and has not charity, it profiteth him nothing.' Our Saviour 
has the whole of my subject in a single sentence: — 'Blessed 
are the peace-makers, for they shall be called the children of 
God."' 



398 



THEME — AETICLE XLV. 

" ' CRUSADES.' 

" These expeditions, which began about the end of the 
eleventh and continued till the expiration of the thirteenth 
century, were undertaken at the instance of Peter of Amiens, 
commonly styled the Hermit, along with Urban II., for the 
avowed object of driving the Turks from the Holy Land, and 
obtaining possession of the Sepulchre of our Saviour, then held 
by the Mahomedans. This desire was not only natural with 
sincere Christians, but praiseworthy ; although we cannot jus- 
tify the means of carrying it out. We look upon the Holy 
Land as Christian property, and these recollections are apt to 
grow into zeal for its possession when we reflect that there was 
enacted the event which gave salvation to mankind, that tliere 
was entombed the Chief Who is to lead us on for ever to the 
highest destinies of our race. Are our dear friends laid in a 
foreign land, we wish to reclaim their bodies. Does a Hero 
perish far from the home of his glory, a Washington or Wel- 
lington, and in the midst of abject infidels, his countrymen has- 
ten to recover his remains, and no obstacle will prevent them. 
It is true, our Saviour's body was not there ; but there, as the 



399 



captain of a dozen fishermen, He fought the greatest battle 
which this earth has ever seen. He conquered the common 
enemy of man, past, present, and to come, and stamped holi- 
ness upon the land. But do not think me a defender of the 
Crusades. I am now upon another subject. I am talking of 
the human heart, or what it ought to be. I say that their 
object was praiseworthy, so far as it was sincere. What indi- 
vidual of our nation, not an entire stranger to good feelings and 
religious emotions, could station himself upon the top of Sinai, 
and not recall with emotions, the event, the memorable event, 
that occurred ages and ages before he became a citizen of the 
world ? Would not a lively glow pervade his heart when 
thinking that upon the place where he now stands, the Lord 
of Heaven descended amid clouds, flame, and smoke, thunder, 
lightning, and the blast of the trumpet, to give His commands 
to His disobedient servants ? Or, let him repair to the Sepul- 
chre, will he not be awe-struck at the place which once con- 
tained the cold and lifeless Body of his Bedeemer ; will he not 
be led to reflect upon life, death, and eternity ; will he not 
mourn that it is desecrated by the foot of the infidel ? But 
distance cannot affect the reality. That remains the same as if 
our whole nation were spectators. It is the 'sign,' and the 
want of it, which makes the difference between the beholder 
and those that do not see it. 

" Such, however, was not the spirit of the Crusaders. It is 
horrible to reflect that plunder, and a freer intercourse with 



400 

the East, were their piratical objects. And Oh, what dire 
wickedness was there in doing all this under the cloak of Reli- 
gion. They were truly wolves in sheep's clothing. ' Woe unto 
you, scribes, pharisees, hypocrites ! for ye are like unto whited 
sepulchres, which, indeed, appear beautiful outward, but are 
within full of dead men's bones, and of all uncleanness.' These 
words are as applicable to most of the Crusaders as to those 
against whom they were uttered. Grant, however, that the 
design of all was good ; will it appear so from the measures 
which were taken ? I answer no ; for then they should have 
carried civilization and Christianity among the ignorant and 
superstitious Turks, instead of slaughtering them, Cortez-like, 
with an unrelenting hand. This was the way for them to have 
procured that respect for the Sepulchre which was their pre- 
tended object. Put up thy sword, was the command of Jesus 
when a certain person, in defence of his Lord and Master, smote 
off an ear belonging to a servant of the High Priest ; from 
which it is evident that, if warlike instruments were not per- 
mitted in the defence of our Saviour, they surely ought not to 
have been employed in the case of the Sepulchre. Which 
should receive the greater reverence, the Tomb, or He that 
once lay therein ? 

" Whatever may have been the advantages that flowed 
from the expeditions of the Crusaders, or how great, mighty, 
and glorious they may have been in their nature, no one can 
conscientiously say that they were worth the blood that was 



401 

shed in their acquisition. And, that I am borne out in this, let 
us look at the nature of another Crusade which is yet to be 
undertaken against the Holy Land, when 'many people and 
strong nations shall come to seek the Lord of hosts in Jerusa- 
lem, and to pray before the Lord. In those days it shall come 
to pass, that ten men shall take hold, out of all languages of 
the nations, even shall take hold of the skirt of him that is a 
Jew, saying, We will go with you ; for we have heard that God 

is with you.' 

" Robert Teoup Paine. 

" Columbia College Grammar School, Dec. 8, 1845." 



THEME— AETICLE XLVI. 

" ' LIFE OF HORACE.' 

" When I cast a glance at the present condition of the arts, 
sciences, and all literature, I am led to ask where shall we find 
the men who have been the greatest ornament to then country, 
and the greatest honor to their race ? Shall we look for them 
at this age of high advancement ? I answer that we must go 
back to years long, long since gone by, to the comparative 
infancy of knowledge ; and, although on our way thither, a 
straggling poet, or a Newton, may shed a dazzling lustre upon 
the path, still, it is after an interval of more than eighteen hun- 



402 

dred years that we suddenly come upon the multitudes of ora- 
tors, poets, sculptors, philosophers, and other men who have 
shone with the blaze of genius. It is here, or beyond, that we 
meet with Homer, Socrates, Sophocles, Plato, Aristotle, Seneca, 
Thucydides, Herodotus, Hippocrates, Demosthenes, Apelles, Vir- 
gil, Cicero, Horace, and a multitude of others which these names 
are only intended to suggest. 

" Horace, the greatest of the Latin lyric poets, was born 65 
B. C, of low parentage, as were most of the great and renown- 
ed men of antiquity ; such as Virgil, Sallust, Homer, &c. His 
father removed from Venusium to Rome in order to give his 
son the advantages of an education, when the latter had attain- 
ed the age of nine or ten years. Horace received there the 
instruction of the ablest preceptors, while his father was engag- 
ed in the public sales, striving to lay up a small sum to pay for 
his son's tuition. Here is an example for imitation. Here we 
come upon the apparent mystery which attends the sudden dis- 
appearance of great men (as to number at least), and the con- 
tinued void to the present generation. It is the want of oppor- 
tunities for education. Let the poorer class of people be better 
instructed, let the spirit of Maecenas return, and there will be 
no lack of philosophers, poets, orators, and other apparent pro- 
digies of mind. They will again appear in as great a multitude 
as ever. The neglect of general and thorough education is the 
cause of their scarcity. There is no degeneracy of the human 
mind, but, on the contrary, it has received additional strength 



403 

every moment of its existence. No ; it is the absence of the 
public schools of Greece, and of that generosity that pervaded 
the heart of every true native of the Latin race. The parent 
would rather he a beggar than that his son should be deprived 
of the blessings of an education. This is the true reason. 
Look at the contrast. How few have been the descendants of 
wealthy and noble men who have written their names, indelli- 
bly, upon the pages of history, compared with those of obscure 
and humble origin. Take, for example, Milton, Virgil, Homer, 
Demosthenes, and Cicero. The first three, the greatest poets, 
and the last two the greatest orators the world has ever wit- 
nessed, were born of poor, and almost insignificant parents ; 
besides which, it should be also remembered that Milton and 
Homer were blind, and Virgil labored under a complaint term- 
ed the asthma. Pursue the inquiry, and it will become more 
and more evident that there is nothing to be expected from 
riches, but, on the contrary, that they are one of the greatest 
obstacles to worldly fame. They encumber the mind, and with- 
draw it from those higher objects to which it would naturally 
incline. It was to this complete control of the mind that our 
Saviour alluded when He said, ' a rich man shall hardly enter 
into the kingdom of Heaven.' The fault, however, is not in 
the wealth, but in those who make it the great object of their 
affections, and, as it were, their god. Virgil expresses beauti- 
fully the same doctrine when he speaks of those suffering pun- 
ishments in the world below, — 



404 

' Ant qui divitiis soli incubuere repertis, 
Nee partem posuere suis ; quae maxima turba est.' 

" But to return once more to our subject. Horace read 
with Ms preceptors the most ancient poets of Rome. He next 
turned his attention to the literature of Greece. At the age of 
twenty-one he was sent to Athens to complete his education. 
He had for his fellow-disciples the son of Cicero, Varius, and 
young Messala. He professed to have no partiality for any 
school in particular ; although it is said that his writings evince 
the spirit of Epicurus. During his stay at Athens many changes 
had been brought about at Rome. Caesar had been assassina- 
ted, and, upon the ruins of his power Anthony was seeking to 
raise a more terrible despotism. Brutus and Cassius, who were 
the only hopes of the faint spark of liberty that still remained, 
had arrived in order to collect the students of that jnace ; and 
among their troops the youthful Horace was finally enlisted. 
And here I may remark, as a verification of what I stated a few 
minutes ago, that the Poet himself exclaims, ' Poverty drove me 
to write verses.' Among the friends who principally encouraged 
his efforts were Virgil and Varius. He was introduced by Vir- 
gil to Maecenas at the age of 27. When he held his first inter- 
view with Maecenas, he gave him a very brief statement of his 
former life. Nothing more occurred for nine months, when 
their acquaintance was renewed, and from that time they con- 
tinued to be the warmest friends until the cold hand of death 



405 

separated them for ever. His patron bestowed upon ln'm a 
romantic villa at Tibur, and a secluded farm in the country of 
the Sabines. But what conduced most to his prosperity was 
the favor and good will of his imperial master. Though he 
enjoyed some of the highest privileges, had Augustus for his 
protector, and Maecenas as his friend, still he had resolution and 
firmness in a sufficient degree to prefer his lowly abode on the 
Esquiline, his villa at Tibur, or his sequestered farm, to all the 
splendors of his royal friends. Too much, certainly, cannot be 
said in praise of his wise choice. But though Horace possessed 
very many good qualities, he was guilty of much misconduct 
which is, in the highest degree, disgraceful to man. We should 
remember, however, that we all have our faults ; that some fail 
in one thing, others in another. "We should therefore take his 
good principles and make them our pattern. His bad ones we 
should pity, but not justify him. In person Horace is stated 
to have been below the ordinary size, and inclined to corpu- 
lence. According to his own account he was abstemious in his 
diet, and divided the day between reading, writing, the bath, 
and the tennis-court. Horace survived his friend Maecenas only 
a few weeks, having died in his 57th year, and his remains were 
deposited on the Esquiline hill, near the tomb of Maecenas. 
Thus ended the career of this great and noble bard. 

" Bobekt Troup Paine. 
" Columbia College Grammar School, Feb. 23, 1846." 



406 



THEME— ARTICLE XLVII. 



" ' HISTORY.' 



" While looking around us, and only at the present, we are 
led to consider whether we are the first of the human family, 
or whether we have been preceded by others ; whether we 
shall be for ever permitted to imagine ourselves lords of all we 
survey, or shall soon be succeeded by others ; whether we are 
always to inhabit the Earth, or are destined for a higher and 
happier state. These, and the like inquiries, can be answered 
only by the voice of history. It is this which raises the dark 
curtain of the mysterious past, and opens the future to our 
view. Here we learn our origin and destination. Here we 
learn from what has been the things which are to come. Here 
we overlook the procession of events from the beginning of 
time ; the long line of philosophers, poets, orators, and states- 
men ; heroes and armies ; battles and murders ; the infancy, 
rise, and fall of nations, succeeded by others as one generation 
takes the place of another ; men distinguished by their virtues, 
and others illustrious for crime ; but all so ingulfed in the 
past, that there is but one great moral for the whole — the 
instability of all human affairs — that ' man is as the grass of 



407 

the field, which to-day is, but to-morrow is cut down.' But, 
from the same source we learn that man is a progressive being ; 
that the good which is done by one and another may never 
cease to be useful and to increase with its age ; that knowledge 
is the accumulated work of all generations ; while these, and 
similar disclosures show us that, although man is as a shadow 
that passeth away, he leaves something behind him of imperish- 
able value, or, on the other hand, inflicts and perpetuates the 
greatest evils upon his race. 

" But let us come to individual examples to illustrate these 
general lessons of histoiy. Here we see how a nation may be 
afflicted by a malicious and tyrannical king, or, how vastly a 
good and wise monarch may improve the condition of his sub- 
jects. Take the reigns of Solomon and Behoboam. During 
all the days of the former the children of Israel were at peace 
with their enemies, were contented and happy, and apparently 
making daily advancement in piety, knowledge, and wealth. 
But, how different with Solomon's successor. Then the current 
of events took an opposite turn, corresponding, as in the former 
case, with the character of the Sovereign. Wars broke out. 
The Egyptians came up against Jerusalem, and made plunder 
of the House of the Lord, and of the king's house ; besides 
which Israel became embroiled in domestic dissensions, where- 
by ten of the tribes revolted. The history of these events 
might have served them as a history of the future ; and cer- 
tainly the future continued to be marked by the same trains of 



408 

causes and effects, not only among the Jews, but among all 
other nations. Such, then, is the most invaluable legacy of his- 
tory. It shows us bow we may avoid troubles, how we may 
be prosperous and happy, or how as certainly the opposite will 
befall us ; what are the rewards of virtue, what the sure punish- 
ments of vice ; what is the difference between homage paid to 
Jupiter, Apollo, Neptune, or the cats and dogs of the Egyp- 
tians, and the God of the Christian ; how to ' discern between 
the righteous and the wicked, between him that serveth God 
and him that serveth Him not ; ' that a man, like Epaminondas, 
may be celebrated for centuries because he never told a false- 
hood, or another, like Aristides, may be as long proverbial for 
his justice. 

" Such, then, are the bearings of history upon the conduct 
of individuals and of nations. It directs them what to do, and 
saves them the necessity and uncertainties of future experience. 
By its aid we may also look, upon some important matters, into 
the most distant future. "We see, for example, that all men, 
with only two exceptions, have come under the general sen- 
tence, ' dust thou art, and unto dust thou shalt return ; ' from 
which we have reason to believe that the sentence will continue 
to be fulfilled. We have beheld the rise and downfall of king- 
doms from the earliest records ; and we may therefore suppose 
that such will continue to be the course of events to the end of 
the world. On the other hand, other things have been steadily 
advancing, as the arts, science, civilization, Christianity ; and we 



409 

therefore infer that they "will continue to do so. The same 

regularity of events is observable in Nature. The earth, and 

other planets, move now in the same orbits that the finger of 

God first marked out for them. Water, on being evaporated 

from the sea and rivers, forms itself into clouds, which discharge 

themselves upon the earth, and after having thus served the 

purpose for which Nature borrowed it, is again evaporated and 

descends again in the form of rain, snow, or hail, till, at last, it 

finds its way to the seas or rivers from which it came. Thus it 

happens, also, that the water which we drink to-day may have 

been drank a thousand times before ; the clouds which concealed 

the sun yesterday may have done so before. Hence we infer 

that this will continue to be the order of Nature. This kind of 

observation, which is equivalent to history, teaches us that, out 

of the ground is formed the herb of the field. This, being 

eaten by animals, enters into their composition. The animals 

die, and moulder away, when their vegetable matter goes back 

to plants. Thus certain particles of matter may have been 

many times through the three great kingdoms of Nature. This 

is certainly astonishing. But we find it to be true from every 

day's observation. If this, therefore, have been the case ever 

since the creation of the world, why ought we not to suppose 

that it will be so until it shall be announced that ' time shall 

be no more ? ' 

" Robert Troup Paine. 

" Columbia College Grammar School, 1846." 



410 



THEME— ARTICLE XLVTH. 



" ' EVACUATION DAT.' 



" Evacuation Day is connected with a long and interesting 
history. In the year 1492 Columbus discovered America ; and 
about the thirtieth year of the seventeenth century the British 
came over to this region of the Continent, and subdued the 
Indians, killing some of them, and driving others to extreme 
parts of the northern and western wilderness. From this time 
the Britons bore rule here for about the space of a hundred 
and thirty or forty years. They also imposed such heavy taxes 
upon the colonists that payment was finally refused. For this 
cause, particularly, Great Britain began hostilities against the 
Americans, and a war of about seven years ensued, in which 
George Washington, the General of his people, the father and 
hero of his country, proved victorious, and brought the British 
to terms of peace. Then, on the twenty-fifth of November, the 
enemy left the City of New- York. Hence the name of Evacu- 
ation Day. It was then that liberty shed its first bright beam 
upon this happy land. Then the Smiles from on High descend- 
ed like the dews of heaven upon our nation. Then we could 
have our own form of government, live by our own laws, 



411 

appoint our own punishments for wickedness and vice, and 
our own rewards for virtue and uprightness. It was then that 
every man could sit down under his own vine, with a light and 
joyful heart. Then it was that a spark came into existence that 
shall kindle all the nations of the earth. Washington ! George 
Washington ! There is a magic in thy name which should 
thrill the heart of every one of thy race. Shall not we hold in 
grateful remembrance the man who obtained liberty for us, the 
most pleasant thing enjoyed upon earth, and more to be desired 
than gold, yea than much fine gold ? Let us ask ourselves if 
such be not the value of liberty. Let us go back to the early 
history of the Jews for a proof of it. There we shall find that, 
when they turned away froni The Lord their God, and wor- 
shipped graven images, captivity was their punishment, and 
freedom their reward when they again paid homage to the 
Almighty. Shall we, or our posterity, lay aside the name of 
one who was unto our nation what David was unto Israel ? Let 
us look at the parallel. David slew Goliath, and won many 
battles against powerful odds. Washington did all this except- 
ing the private combat. Was not the God of battles equally 
with both ? That was, at least, Washington's opinion. The 
former was king of his nation ; the latter was ruler of his peo- 
ple. David was just and upright, and so was Washington. I 
appeal to reason for an answer to this question. The reply is, 
if we allow the memory of our Champion to sink into oblivion, 
we shall be guilty of the greatest ingratitude, and unworthy 



412 

the blessings which we inherit. What joy ! What thankfulness 
must have filled the hearts of the Americans when they beheld 
the British abandoning their shores, and looking back upon 
their seven years' war, through which a handful of brave men 
had reduced to submission the most powerful nation of the 
earth ! How pleasing must it have been to see the British" flag 
torn down, and the American hoisted in its stead ! 

" Robert Troup Paine. 
" Columbia College Grammar School, Nov. 26, 1845." 



THEME— ARTICLE XLIX. 

" ' THE RELATIVE INFLUENCE OF MEN AND WOMEN.' 

" To whatever page of history we turn, either sacred or 
civil, we there trace something besides the hand of man. Man 
may perform the work ; but what is it that prompts him ? Is 
it not greatly woman, whether his deeds be for good or for 
evil ? Is it not very much as she inclines one way or the 
other ? Yes ; we see that in the case of our Mother Eve, who, 
by influencing Adam to eat of the forbidden fruit, introduced 
sin and death into the world. This, the most unhappy of all 
events, was effected by the hand of woman. Did not Abraham, 
by the influence of his jealous wife Sarai, turn away Hagar and 



413 

Ishmael, who had so long been his housemates, to seek their 
fortune in a dreary wilderness ? Joseph, through the influence 
of a woman, was cast into prison. It was the beauty of a female 
that prompted the greatest sin recorded in Holy Writ ; namely, 
that of treating Bath-sheba, the wife of Uriah, with indecency, 
and," after that, of placing her husband in the front of a hot 
battle, in order that he might be slain, and that it might enable 
him to take Bath-sheba to be his wife. It was by the influence 
of his deceitful spouse that Samson was at last prevailed upon 
to tell where his immense strength lay ; to his own injury and 
the gratification of his enemies. Was not Solomon, after hav- 
ing received the three Divine gifts of wisdom, long life, and 
great riches, and after having written a book of Proverbs, a 
great part of which were against idolatry, influenced by his 
wives to worship strange gods ? Edward the Third, after hav- 
ing besieged Calais, and after having reduced the inhabitants to 
the last extremity of hunger, so that they were compelled to 
surrender, vowed that he would put them all to death for hav- 
ing made so obstinate a resistance. Six of the citizens, how- 
ever, having presented themselves as a voluntary sacrifice for 
their countrymen, the king was prevailed upon by his amiable 
wife Philippa, and pronounced a general pardon. Helen, too, 
was the cause of the ten years' siege of mighty Troy. 

" Although man is employed in the out-door business of the 
world, still, in this he is influenced by woman ; for a man will, 
in all probability, try to please his wife, the object of his affec- 



414 

tions. However cruel in disposition he may be, however fixed 
in his resolves, still there is one entreaty to which he has to 
submit ; still there is one voice that overcomes him, and his 
murderous designs, or disgraceful plots are for ever aban- 
doned. 

" For woman have many men become servants. We have 
an instance of this in the patriarch Jacob, who served Laban 
seven years for his daughter Rachel, and being deceived with 
Leah, he served yet seven years more for the object of his 
desire. 

" Moreover, a very great influence that women exercise is 
in the education of their children. It is the mother, generally, 
that lays the foundation of the future happiness or misery of 
her child, by imparting to him early the principles of Religion, 
or by neglecting to do so until he become hardened in vice. 
' Train up a child in the way that he should go, and when he is 
old he will not depart from it.' How little, on the other hand, 
is the influence of man compared with that of woman. Man, 
indeed, performs the exploits, but his wife, or some other female 
relative, affects his designs. So, it is evident that woman not 
only very greatly influences the business of the world, but, also, 
its morals. 

" Robert Troup Paine. 

" Grammar School, Columbia College, March 17, 1845." 



415 



THEME— AETICLE L. 

" ' 'WHICH PRODUCE THE MORE BENEFICIAL INFLUENCES ON MAN- 
EXND, CLASSICS, OR MATHEMATICS?' 

" On first thoughts, a person would he in favor of the 
former ; hut, on farther consideration he must undouhtedly 
decide on the side of the latter. Let us, for instance, take two 
men just heginniug to act upon the stage of life, the one hav- 
ing an extended knowledge of mathematics, hut heing an entire 
stranger to classics, the other well versed in the latter, hut 
altogether ignorant of the former ; and let us watch these in 
their career through the world. We shall thus plainly see that 
a man, although he may never have heard the name of a Virgil, 
a Homer, a Cicero, or a Plato, still, if he enter into the depths 
of mathematical science, will glide through this world of anxi- 
ety and care more peacefully and more honorahly than that 
individual who, although he may he ahle to repeat all the 
actions that have been done, and all the words that have been 
uttered, since the creation of the world, or may know by heart 
the productions of the ancient bards, is yet ignorant of the 
rules of arithmetic. Let us also take two men, the one possess- 
ing a little knowledge of mathematics, but being a great classi- 



416 

cal scholar, the other somewhat acquainted with the eloquence 
of Demosthenes, or Cicero, or with the poetical raptures of Vir- 
gil and Homer, hut at the same time heing exceedingly well 
versed in numbers, and let us accompany these through the 
labyrinth of life. "What a change ! What a different aspect 
do we perceive ! Here the classical man is uppermost to our 
view. It is he who most distinguishes himself ; it is he whom 
the public voice most applauds ; it is he, in fine, upon whom 
the highest dignities and honor's are conferred. Let us now 
look again upon the former of our cases, and see the relative 
influence upon the human mind between classics and mathe- 
matics ; which is the most important point to be discussed. 
The one man, while perusing the works of the ancient authors, 
can, in imagination, ascend to Heaven, and there behold Jupi- 
ter wielding the sceptre of the Universe, and darting forth 
his forked lightning, or engaged in repelling the assault of the 
Titan throng ; or, he can descend into the bowels of flaming 
Etna, and there behold Vulcan fashioning at his fiery forge the 
thunderbolts of omnipotent Jove ; or, in a moment he may see 
him cast headlong to the island of Lemnos from the golden 
mansions of lofty Olympus ; or, he may pay a visit to the infer- 
nal regions and gaze on Pluto, surrounded by all the terrors of 
the world below, sitting in judgment against defenceless crimi- 
nals, or on the dire avenging Furies, executioners of the fierce 
wrath of the hellish king ; or, to refresh himself after this 
scene, he may glide o'er the watery waves, and see Neptune 



417 

one moment doomed to servile work under Laomedon, king of 
Troy, and, at another, ruling with his mighty Trident the 
raging billows of the sea ; or, as a close of his amusements, he 
may direct his steps to the rocky abode of JEolus, and there 
find him, by means of chains and a prison house, keeping under 
restraint the mighty and turbulent winds of Ocean, or releasing 
them from bondage, bidding them, at the same time, to carry 
all before them, and, in their track to leave nothing but desola- 
tion and ruin. Still, after all this, the faculties of his mind are 
not improved, its powers are not invigorated ; nay, it is no 
stronger than at the commencement of his journey. The other 
individual, pursuing the mathematical road, will soon find him- 
self stationed among the stars, solving problems the very sound 
of which will almost give a death-blow to the classical man, 
and calculating the motions of the heavenly bodies for thou- 
sands, or, perhaps, tens of thousands of years to come, all of 
which will happen, for they are founded upon the immutable 
laws of Nature. This is what daily gives additional force to 
the intellect, and improves the powers of the mind. Thus we 
see that mathematics will advance a man to the far higher 
glory, if unattended by classics ;- but, if joined together, the 
latter, figuratively speaking, has the same effect upon the 
former as nitric acid upon silver, — while, in order to rise even 
to a slight degree of renown by the aid of classics, mathematics 
are absolutely necessary. Moreover, while through the assist- 
ance of the latter we are meditating upon the splendor and 



418 



regularity of the various bodies of the Universe, we are led to 
sublime thou 
not contain.' 



sublime thoughts of Him Whom the ' Heaven of heavens can- 



" Robert Troup Paine. 
" Columbia College Grammar School, Dec. 1, 1845." 



THEME— AETICLE LI. 

" 'FRIENDSHIP.' 

" Friendship is a tie of affection produced among people, 
generally, by a long intimacy with each other, though all per- 
sons that have lived, and are now living, had it not been for 
sin, would naturally be friends and relatives to one another ; 
for, out of one blood has God made all the Nations of the Earth. 
Hence the black Africans, with their thick lips and flat noses, 
and the tawny and wandering Tartars, would have been nearly 
as much bound to us by the ties of affection as our home-bred 
relatives ; though many people would not believe this. But it 
is easily proved. Supposing a man had twenty children ; they 
would be brothers and sisters to each other. Just so, soon after 
the Creation of the world, God made one man and woman, 
from whom all people have descended ; and then, of course, on 
the same plan, though larger scale, the man is the Father, and 
the woman the Mother of all living, and all individuals descend- 



419 

ed from them are brothers and sisters to each other ; and cer- 
tainly every thing that is bound by blood should be bound by 
friendship also. But sin has turned this friendship into enmity, 
and in this way almost all people that would have lived in per- 
fect love and harmony with each other, have been made great 
enemies. As there are substances that will break all material 
things, so friendship, though it be stouter than iron, firmer than 
brass, deeper than the ocean, may be broken by one thing, i. e. 
the whisperer ; who, as the wise man said, separateth chief 
friends. For instance, suppose that a man, who has the charac- 
ter of a whisperer, should become acquainted with two persons 
who are very great friends with each other, he would, perhaps, 
immediately begin to tell one lies about the other, and in this 
way the two that were a little while ago the most cordial 
friends are now bitter enemies. 

" Kobeet Troup Paine. 
" Columbia College Grammar School, June 21, 1844." 



420 



THEME — AETICLE LII. 

"'THE DUTY OF CHILDREN TO PARENTS.' 

" ' Honor thy father and thy mother, that thy days may be 
long in the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee,' was the 
fifth Commandment that the Almighty gave forth from Mount 
Sinai, encompassed by a cloud, from which proceeded fire and 
smoke, thunder and lightning. This is also called the first 
Commandment of promise, because, if properly kept, it is sure 
to bring to the person by whom it is so observed a long life ; 
for ' God is not a man that He should lie, neither the son of 
man that He should repent.' 

" It is the duty of children to love, respect, and obey their 
parents for two reasons ; the first, because God has commanded 
them to do so, and the second, because their parents have done 
so much for them ; for they have watched over them with ten- 
der and affectionate care when sick, have provided their medi- 
cine and furnished their food and raiment ; and, in fine, some 
parents have done every thing for their children that it is in 
the power of mortals to do. 

" Though it may be the duty of every child to obey his 
parents in every thing that is right, yet it is equally his duty 



421 

to disobey thein in every thing that is wrong. For instance, if 
a parent were to ask his child to steal, or to tell a lie, or to do 
any thing that is wicked, he would be justified in disobeying 
him, and not justified in obeying him. St. Paul says, ' Obey 
your parents in the Lord ; ' that is, do every thing that they 
wish, which is at the same time according to the will of God, 
but not do any thing that they desire if against the Command- 
ment of the Almighty. And every body should be careful not 
to pay that respect and love to their parents which is due to 
Him alone Who is able, in a moment, to take away parents and 
friends, and Who is the Father of the fatherless and widow ; 
and Christ says, ' He that loveth father and mother more than 
Me is not worthy of Me.' 

" KoBERT TkOTJP PAINE. 

" Columbia College Grammar School, Feb. 5, 1844." 



THEME— AETICLE LIII. 

" ' GOOD EDUCATION.' 

" Good education is a highly cultivated state of mind. In 
order to be well educated, you must acquire good principles 
and manners, as the ground upon which you would build here- 
after. Is it possible to erect a house without placing it on the 
ground ? No. But when you can destroy gravity, then you 



422 

can construct a building in the air, then you can form a good 
education without any support for it to rest upon. As long, 
however, as you cannot do this, you will be obliged to lay a 
deep foundation first ; after which, in order to complete your 
education, you must learn to speak and write your own lan- 
guage with correctness, study history, geography, arithmetic, 
algebra, trigonometry, <fec. ; have some acquaintance with astron- 
omy, and the fine arts, and understand a few foreign languages. 
But, above all, whatever you do, do it well, bearing in mind 
that it is better to learn one page well, than to study fifty pages 
slightly, and even then to know nothing about them. Be care- 
ful, also, to read such books as will teach you what is correct. 

" You need but little intercourse with a person to know 
whether he is well educated. If he be so, he will express him- 
self with more elegance, display more knowledge, better princi- 
ples and ideas, more refined manners, than one who has paid 
less, or but little attention to the culture of his mind. Every 
tree is known by its fruit. Therefore, as a good tree cannot 
bear corrupt fruit, or an evil tree cannot bear good fruit, so the 
educated and refined man cannot say the things that belong to 
the ignorant and foolish, and the ignorant and foolish cannot 
give utterance to the thoughts that belong to the educated and 
refined. 

" How much more happy, too, is the well educated than the 
uninstructed man ; for the ways of wisdom are ways of pleasant- 
ness, and all her paths are peace. Such was the experience of 



423 

a man whose choice was wisdom rather than riches or length of 
days. "While the educated man is walking with the honorable 
of the earth, and making still higher attainments in knowledge, 
the ignorant man is classed with the lowest, and is, perhaps, 
every moment growing still more hardened in wickedness and 
crime. But, it should be remembered that, as a man's educa- 
tion increases, so do his responsibilities also. The wise man is 
more blamable if he do wrong, -than the uninstructed ; for, 
those persons who know their Master's will, and do it not, shall 
be beaten with many stripes, while those who know not His 
will, and commit things worthy of stripes, shall be beaten with 
few stripes. Justice and mercy are always the same. They 
make up a part of truth. The penitent prodigal will always 
be forgiven, and God will be merciful when Jonahs are not. 
He will always ' pity the persons that cannot discern between 
their right hand and their left hand ; ' and the learned Paul 
says to Timothy, ' I was before a blasphemer, and a persecutor, 
but I obtained mercy because I did it ignorantly in unbelief.' 
And again to Titus, ' not by works of righteousness which we 
have done, but according to God's mercy He saved us, by the 
washing of regeneration, and renewing of the Holy Ghost.' 

" Robert Teoup Painf. 
" Columbia College Grammar School, June 17, 1844." 



424 



THEME — ABTICLE LIV. 

" 'FEAE.' 

" Fear is a certain agitation of the mind, occasioned, gener- 
ally, by objects of a hurtful or deadly appearance. Experience 
teaches us all the nature of the feeling ; for it attends all peri- 
ods of life, from the newly born infant to the man of an hun- 
dred years. It has been the cause of a great deal of good, and 
the means of deterring many from evil. It is often at war with 
hope, as where the wicked are intent upon unlawful gain. One 
or the other will then prevail, as expectation of reward or 
punishment may affect the mind, or as conscience may happen 
to direct ; for ' the wicked flee when no man pursueth.' 

" Fear has been the occasion of many of the most impor- 
tant events of the world ; sometimes through its effect upon 
individuals, and at other times upon nations. It saved the life 
of Lot ; it secured Moses in the bulrushes ; it drove David 
into caves and the mountains, and made him generous towards 
' God's anointed ; ' it rendered the children of Israel unwilling 
to go into the promised land ; it is the last gracious pleasure 
of the Almighty in behalf of sinners, when His promises fail. 
There is no other passion of such various effects ; generally use- 



425 

ful, or if injurious it is mostly by affecting the health, or caus- 
ing insanity and sometimes death. There have been many 
cases of insanity during the last year, which arose from a belief 
in the supposition propagated by Mr. Miller, that the Day of 
Judgment was to come in the year 1843. 

" Robert Troup Paine. 
" Columbia College Grammar School, March 18, 1844." 



THEME— ARTICLE LV. 

"'WHICH MAKES THE GREATER MAN", GENIUS OR APPLICATION?' 

" Genius is natural talent, while application, in the sense 
implied by the question, is the effort that a person makes to 
gain a certain point without any great natural ability to do so. 
We see the former displayed in a variety of ways, and in all it 
may be without any particular effort ; as in painting, music, 
mathematics, languages, mechanical skill, &c. The latter always 
requires effort. To show the difference between them in a prac- 
tical view, I will suppose two men travelling in different direc- 
tions to a distant country. To the one the road is level and 
easy, offering no obstacles to his progress ; while to the other 
the road is extremely hilly and full of stones, and occasionally 
he meets with immense rocks, which he is obliged to blast in 



426 

order to reach his journey's end. This is a fair comparison 
between the man who possesses genius, and him who depends 
upon constant application ; for, while the former is travelling 
on in Nature's easy path, the latter is struggling with innumer- 
able obstacles. Thus, some persons can learn more Latin in 
half an hour than others can in two hours ; because to the 
former belong genius and application, while the latter is want- 
ing in the natural talent. 

" And now arises the question, which makes the greater 
man, genius or application ? I answer that neither of them 
alone will make a great man, but, that application will make 
the greater of the two. It takes both combined to make a 
truly great man ; for it requires persevering industry to give 
effect to that talent which is more to be desired than gold, yea, 
than much fine gold. Otherwise, it will be like the treasure 
hidden in the earth. 

" But genius often counts wholly upon itself, and laughs at 
the industry upon which others rely for success. What will be 
the excuse when the Lord shall come and require the talent 
with usury ? ' Ah ! ' the man of genius will say, ' I knew that 
Thou art a hard man, reaping where Thou hast not sown, and 
gathering where Thou hast not strewed, and I was afraid, and 
went and hid Thy talent in the earth.' But will that be satis- 
factory ? 

" Robert Troup Paine. 

" Columbia College Grammar School, March 4, 1844." 



427 



THEME— AETICLE LVI. 

" 'THANKSGIVING.' 

" Thanksgiving is a day appointed by the Governor of the 
State for giving thanks to God for His numberless mercies 
throughout the year. It is a day, however, on which every 
thing is done except study. Some spend its forenoon in the 
most noble way, viz., going to Church ; and in the afternoon, 
when they eat their sumptuous dinners, they eat for something 
else than merely to gratify their carnal desire. Others spend 
it in skating, sliding, playing ball, &c. Others in rioting, drink- 
ing, cursing and swearing. 

" It is not on this day only that God should be thanked, but 
every day. It is thought a gross impoliteness among mankind 
not to thank each other for every little act of kindness. How 
much more irreverent is it then to the Almighty, to allow His 
mercies to pass over our heads unacknowledged and unregard- 
ed, and the least of which we do not deserve. 

" Eobeet Teoup Paine. 

" Columbia College Grammar School, Dec. 18, 1843." 



428 



THEME— ARTICLE LVIL 



" 'early rising.' 



" It is an excellent practice to rise early, particularly in the 
country. At an early hour Nature is at its height of beauty ; 
for then the lambs may be seen skipping about their dams; 
then the lilies, while wet with the dew of heaven, appear more 
grand than did Solomon in all his glory ; then all is still to the 
ear, except now and then the note of some little songster, or 
the drumming of some distant partridge, breaks upon the mel- 
ancholy stillness ; it is then that the sun may be seen to dart 
forth its first golden beams into the pure and salubrious air ; 
and, to the pious man this may be the time for the most devout 
meditation. 

" The ancient Jews used always to rise early, particularly 
when they had any thing unusual to do. This is often men- 
tioned by Moses. We read, for example, that when Abraham 
went to offer up his son, he rose early in the morning, and sad- 
dled his ass, and took Isaac and two of his young men with 
him ; and again, that Abimelech rose up early to declare to the 
people what God had said to him in a dream ; and again, that 
Moses rose up early in the morning, and went up into Mount 



429 

Sinai, as the Lord had commanded him ; and again, he rose up 
early in the morning and builded an altar ; and Jacob rose up 
early to set up a stone that should be for God's house ; and the 
children of Israel rose up early in the morning, and got them 
up into the top of a mountain ; and again, when they had slain 
the tribe of Benjamin, all Israel rose up early in the morning to 
build an altar, and very often when they had battles to fight. 
Solomon recommends early rising. Darius rose very early in 
the morning, and went unto the den of lions to see whether 
Daniel was still alive. Twice was Moses ordered by God to 
rise up early and stand before Pharaoh. Jeremiah says that 
for many years he prophesied to the people early in the morn- 
ing ; and he says, moreover, that the Lord Himself rose early 
to send His Prophets. Now, why is all this about early rising 
so particularly and so often stated in the Holy Scriptures ? 

" A person, by rising two hours earlier every day, may save 
at the end of one year thirty days and ten hours, and in twelve 
years may save one year. Thus, in a life of seventy-two years 

he will gain six years. 

" Eobeet Troup Paine. 

" Columbia College Grammar School, June 15, 1843." 



430 



THEME — AETICLE LVIII. 

" ' WHICH IS MORE USEFUL, AGRICULTURE, OR MANUFACTURES AND 

COMMERCE ? ' 

" This is a question which should not be hastily answered. 
Let us first compare the relative use to mankind between Agri- 
culture and Manufactures and Commerce. Then let us endea- 
vor to ascertain which conduces more to the prosperity and 
glory of a nation. 

"Agriculture was the occupation of man while in a state 
of innocence. It forms the ground of all other employ- 
ments. The want of it would put an end to all nations. 
Nay, in a word, the whole human family would perish, and 
the world become a scene of horrid desolation, wrapt in the 
awful silence of the tomb, to be broken only by the Arch- 
angel's trump. Manufactures and Commerce, on the other 
hand, are, comparatively, mere luxuries. We could certainly 
live without the former, and continue to exist though igno- 
rant of the latter, if we supposed the limits of our vision 
were the boundary of Creation. This is sufficiently shown 
by the savage races ; and, although they may subsist for a 



431 

while upon animals, they must ultimately come to the fruits 
of the earth. 

" Having thus taken an abstract view of our question, let us 
now examine it in its broader and more extended meaning, — 
which is most advantageous to a nation, where the several pur- 
suits are followed together ? This will depend much upon the 
extent of territory, and how far the soil is unoccupied. So far 
as there is room for agriculture, this must yield the greatest 
amount of happiness and of wealth, as it supplies all the most 
important wants of man, and is the only truly productive labor. 
What was said by the wise man of Israel of the individual, 
applies equally to the mass — ' I went by the field of the sloth- 
ful, and by the vineyard of the man wanting understanding, 
and lo ! it was all grown over with thorns, and nettles had 
covered the face thereof, and the stone wall thereof was broken 
down. Then I saw and considered it well ; I looked upon it 
and received instruction.' 

" When, however, a country is beginning to have an over- 
grown population, manufactures and commerce not only increase 
their wealth, knowledge, and happiness, but may take the lead 
in their prosperity. In all these respects agriculture has its 
limit, and no nation can arrive at excellence by that pursuit 
alone. But as soon as the products of the soil exceed the wants 
of a people, commerce will yield innumerable advantages, and 
manufactures will come in aid of their power, wealth,- and fame. 
" Agriculture, therefore, is most important ; manufactures a 



432 

handmaid when agriculture is overgrown ; and commerce at 
last carrries a nation to its highest glory. 

" Robert Troup Paine. 
" Columbia College Grammar School, Nov. 17, 1845." 



THEME— ARTICLE LIX. 

"'SHIPS and ship-building.' 

" Ships were known to the ancients in the time of Solomon ; 

for we frequently read that the ships of Tarsus were used to 

import various articles for the building of Solomon's Temple, 

and to export goods in return for those that were imported. 

Whether the ships of Tarsus were made in the same manner as 

ours, I cannot tell ; but it is probable that they were much 

more magnificent. Ships are almost indispensable to man, for 

it is by means of them that nations hold intercourse with each 

other. Without them we could not traverse the mighty deep. 

Without ships the Kingdom of Divine Grace could not be 

spread among the lonely islands of the sea. And, alas, how 

many millions would die who had never heard of Jesus, or of 

that other world hi which they are to live hereafter, because no 

one had ingenuity or industry enough to make a ship ! 

" Robert Troup Paine. 
June 3, 1843." 



433 



THEME— ARTICLE LX. 

" ' THE COMPARATIVE ADVANTAGES AND DISADVANTAGES OF CIVILIZED 
AND SAVAGE LIFE.' 

" This is a question about which mankind have always been 
at variance, ever since civilization dawned upon our world. I 
will now add one opinion to the many thousands which have 
been expressed upon this subject. 

" Look at the Indian in infancy, and you can trace no partic- 
ular difference between him and an infant of a civilized nation. 
Take him in boyhood, and you see the peculiar traits of his 
disposition beginning to manifest themselves. You observe him 
one moment with his bow and arrow, at another with his toma- 
hawk, learning to use them as some of his brave ancestors had 
done. In manhood, at one minute in the deer-hunt, when 
pleasure shines brightest in his eye ; at another engaged in the 
bloody battle ; at another holding up his string of scalps, and 
boasting over them as the evidence of his valiant deeds. One 
day you see him here, another day fifty miles distant. In fine, 
he is like the wind, which 'bloweth where it listeth.' Look 
at him in his gray hairs ; you notice him now pouring forth his 
praises to the Great Spirit for the success which has attended 



434 

him in hunting and in battle. Now you see him relating to his 
fellow savages his exploits in the chase of the buffalo, and brag- 
ging of his heroic actions in war. Follow him to his death- 
bed ; he dies in hope. Ah, what hope ! Not that of living 
with God and the Lamb for ever. No ; he is deluded by the 
vain expectation that he shall have better hunting-grounds in 
the Eternal "World than he had on earth ; and, accordingly, 
when he is laid in the cold earth his weapons are buried by the 
side of him. 

" Let us examine, for a few moments, a civilized life ; of 
which there are two kinds, city and country life. In the city 
civilization is carried to a far greater extent than in the country. 
Take a citizen and look at him when a boy, and you see him, 
instead of learning archery and to handle the tomahawk or the 
scalping-knife, studying his books. In manhood you behold his 
brow, not impressed by the prints of voluptuousness, but mark- 
ed with care and anxiety. In old age you observe that his eye 
does not brighten up at the recollections of the past, but that 
it glistens at the hope of a happy futurity, or is darkened by de- 
spair at the thought of living in another world. Go with him 
to his death-bed, and you notice him either raving when calling 
to mind that there is an Eternity beyond the grave, or calm 
and pacified at the anticipation of a glorious resurrection. 

" Country civilization is the connecting link between a sav- 
age and city life. There you can have almost all the sports of 
the barbarian together with the advantages of civilization. The 



435 

city, to be sure, contains theatres, circuses, and other places of 
like nature ; but it has no active and healthy amusements. In 
the country, on the other hand, you cau have the first occupa- 
tion of man in its perfection. There, too, you may see, at times, 
men shouldering their guns or handling their fishpoles ; and 
how delightful, moreover, to observe the different changes of 
Nature as the seasons roll round in their appointed order. 

" Now let us proceed to answer the question ; which is bet- 
ter, a civilized or savage life ? Notwithstanding the sports and 
enjoyments of the latter, yet man in this situation is not capable 
of knowing as much of his Maker as if he lived in a polished 
nation. All that he can ascertain concerning Him must be 
done by his external senses, from the objects of Nature around 
him ; and, although no one has a right to form an opinion as to 
the final lot of the barbarian, still it is this that gives a civilized 
life the great ascendency above that of the savage. A country 
life, however, is far superior to that of the city ; for in the latter 
men are more or less corrupted by its luxuries, led into bad 
company by its places of amusement, or lead a life of care and 
sorrow, while in the former all is harmony, innocency, and en- 
joyment. 

" ROBEET TkOTJP PAINE. 

" Columbia College Grammar School." 

Without date, but written probably in 1845. The manuscript 
will be bound with the folio volume, as intimated of others. 



436 

The following Theme is the earliest which remains, and is 
the only one of 1842. It was written while attending the 
" Primary School " of the University of the City of New- York, 
Avhere Robert was placed before entering the Grammar School 
of Columbia College. There will be seen in it the same charac- 
teristic traits that mark his latest compositions. The manu- 
script will be preserved as intimated of others at p. 321, as will 
several others not mentioned at that place. 



THEME — ARTICLE LXI. 

'"a country or city.' 

" A country life is altogether preferred by the admirer of 
Nature ; a city by the admirer of the taste and workmanship of 
art. Persons that live in the country possess a great many 
advantages that they that live in the city do not. They have 
more room for taking exercise, for attending to the religious im- 
provement of their minds, for there is nothing to call oft* their 
minds from the great Being of their existence. When they go 
out on a pleasant Sunday morning, they do not hear the dis- 
agreeable sound of Sunday morning news, swearing and cursing 
mixed therewith, as we do in the city ; but, on the contrary, the 
sound of a distant bell, losing itself gradually in the immensity 
of space. Every thing seems so pleasant that the birds them- 



43V 

selves seem to praise God. The city has but one advantage, in 
my humble judgment ; that is, of public schools for educating 
children. 

" It is the ambition of too many in the city to become rich 
or illustrious in the world, and in order to become illustrious 
they must be wise respecting the things of this world. But the 
Bible says that the ' wisdom of this world is foolishness with 
God.' ' The fear of the Lord,' says the Wise Man, ' is the be- 
ginning of wisdom.' Thus it is plain that a knowledge of bat- 
tles, tumults, bloodshed, Latin and Greek, is not even the be- 
ginning of true wisdom. But, at the same time, I do not say 
but that men can be great and good in this world, but that 
they generally are not. 

" Your affectionate Scholar, 

" Robert Troup Paine. 

" January 30th, 1842." 



438 



THEME— ARTICLE LXII. 
"'is the hope op reward, or the fear of punishment, the 

GREATER INCENTIVE TO EXERTION.' 

" Let us first consider the propriety of exertion ; secondly, 
what should be its inducements ; thirdly, which, generally, has 
the greater effect, reward or punishment. 

' ; That industry is highly commendable in every station of 
life, nay, truly essential to its enjoyment, and even its mainte- 
nance, few will deny. We see it every where among animals ; 
and we may almost imagine the same thing to exist among the 
heavenly bodies. The principle, or something like it, is every 
where throughout God's creation. 

" But animals are concerned alone about their means of 
living. Man has higher duties to perform ; or, if he labor for 
his temporal life only, what does he more than the brutes ? 
His duties are higher as the soul is superior to the body, and 
eternity longer than time. He has mind to cultivate, two 
worlds to govern, one within him and one without, vices to 
shun, and virtue to win, a God to praise, and a Heaven to gain. 
Now, what should prompt him to pursue the straight path, 
and keep him from the erroneous way ? Surely, it should be 



439 

neither the hope of reward, nor the fear of punishment. A 
narrow-minded man must he be who labors only to obtain his 
daily bread, and contemptible is the man of wealth who spends 
his time in idleness and pleasure. A great patriot must he be 
who defends his country merely to obtain the olive-crown. A 
fine Christian, indeed, is he, who obeys merely from the hopes 
of Heaven, or from fear of hell, and who would not care, pro- 
vided he could obtain the former, and avoid the latter, whether 
he bless or curse his Maker. 

" There is certainly too much of selfishness abroad in the 
world. We should do good for the sake of doing right, let that 
follow which may. Before we enter upon any common enter- 
prise, we should not ask merely whether it is to be attended by 
a reward, or punishment, but in the first place, whether it be 
right' or wrong, whether it is to be of advantage to mankind. 
If so, let us then enter resolutely upon it, resting assured that 
some good result will always follow. 

" But, we must take the world as it is, and keep the question 
before us. Here we must leave argument, and depend upon 
observation, and what we know of ourselves, for the answer. 
We shall then necessarily arrive at the conclusion, that, unless 
considerably hardened in crime, the hope of reward has a much 
more powerful effect than fear of punishment. The law, ' whoso 
sheddeth man's blood by man shall his blood be shed,' never 
troubles the peaceful citizen, nor do any other penalties. He 
looks up to a good conscience, a heaven within him, and the ap- 



440 

probation of his fellow-men. The deserter's fate never troubles 
the mind of the brave warrior. 

" On the other hand, to the mind of him who wishes to in- 
dulge in midnight robbery, a flame of a candle, the creak of a 
door, or the rustling of the wind in the chimney, may present 
the prison-house or the gallows, and he flees in terror when no 
man pursueth. After such an alarm, he abandons for ever this 
course of felony. No hope of reward would have ever turned 
him from his course of crime. But fear of punishment is not 
what governs the Christian. Hell itself is not an object of fear 
to him. He loves virtue and holiness for their own sake ; but 
Heaven operates as a bright inducement to persevere in the path 
of rectitude. But, to many a one, no doubt, who has formed 
the plan of suicide, hell, and all the powers of darkness have 
risen in bold array, and separated his intended crime as far 
from him as the East from the West. 

" Robert Troup Paine. 

" Columbia College Grammar School, Nov. 30, 1846." 



441 

It is difficult for Parents situated like Robert's, and with 
such a treasure before them, to know where they should stop, 
or what they should exclude, in their effort to illustrate his 
character and render his life useful to others. Many exempli- 
fications of his beautiful mind, his noble principles, and bis re- 
fined epistolary style, might be selected from the profusion of 
his letters to his Parents ; but this seems to be superseded by 
the variety of his Essays, and would involve the necessity of 
another volume, which might be regarded as an indication of 
inconsiderate zeal. To make known his disposition is the great 
object of interest. His letters abound, as will probably have 
been inferred from such as are connected with the Memoir, 
with the most affectionate solicitude about the health of his 
Parents and devotion to their wishes and happiness. He there- 
fore appreciated fully his importance to them. This feeling is 
manifested throughout his correspondence, from the first to the 
last. In one of his earliest letters written to his Father while 
on a visit to Saratoga Springs for the benefit of his health, 
there is much of the same alarm manifested as appears in those 
relative to the Cholera, at p. 154. An extract from his Father's 
answer to that Letter represents exactly the confidence which 
he never failed to entertain in his son, and his own devotion 
to him : 



442 



"Saratoga Springs, May 22, 1845. 

" My Dear Robert : — It was very kind in you, my dear 
child, to address me so affectionate a letter. I am proud of so 
excellent a son — always dutiful, affectionate, religious, and in- 
dustrious. Your manliness and independence have relieved me 
from much care and solicitude. Be always thus, and you will 
secure happiness to yourself as well as to your Parents. 

" I am taking every possible care of my health, and quite as 
much for your sake and your Mother's as for my own. I am 
fully sensible of the importance of my life to you and to your 
Mother. I was very glad you wrote me freely on the subject, 
as I hope you always will on every other that may be interest- 
ing to either of us. 

" My health is vastly improved. But I was cpaite ill, and it 
was natural that you should feel alarmed. I could beat you 
now, however, in chasing a deer, or in following the flight of a 
pigeon." 



In about a week after the foregoing Letter, the Father, on 
returning to New- York, was precipitated down a precipice, in a 
stage-coach, which occasioned the fracture of ribs, <fcc, that con- 
fined him to the bed for six Aveeks. During this time his son 
was with him, and scarcely left the bed-side for any purpose but 
sleep. 



443 

On reviewing Robert's correspondence, the alarming Letters 
relative to the Cholera (page 154), leave more and more the 
impression that reason was then liable to temporary affections, 
and occasionally lost that ascendency over the moral emotions 
which had distinguished his former life. How far that discipline 
generally extended is well represented in a letter to his Father, 
dated, at Cambridge, Sept. 30th, 1848, in which he says : 

" I am much grieved to hear that Mother is not equal to 
the journey here, as I had anticipated great enjoyment from 
her visit ; but, as Providence has ordered it so, I ought not to 
complain, but be thankful that her life has been spared so long, 
and that she is stronger than she used to be. I hope that she 
may be able to come on with you at Christmas, and go home 
with me in the vacation. I can find her very comfortable quar- 
ters. Grandma will not be on before November, as she will 
make a visit to great Aunt S previously." 



These, however, are only examples of what rush in crowds 
upon the memory, and which awaken in his Parents not only 
the sentiments which are common to all on the occasion of great 
bereavements, but a profound sense of gratitude that he has 
left nothing behind him but. an example in every respect 
worthy of their close imitation. Their only regret upon this 
subject is their want of ability to bring it into the same practi- 
cal influence upon others ; though it is their earnest prayer that 



444 

such a direction may be given to their efforts by an all-sufficient 
Power. 

It has been stated, among other things, of Robert's habits 
of independent thinking, that he would never receive any aid 
in writing his compositions, or permit any alterations to be 
made, and that he never copied them. On two occasions he 
forwarded from Cambridge two of his Forensics for his Parents 1 
perusal, and with a particular request that they should be re- 
turned without the alteration of a word. One of them was 
upon the subject of a new translation of the Bible (page 37), in 
which his Father objected to one expression as beneath the dig- 
nity of the subject, and which is expunged. Robert, however, 
was not disposed to recede, and sustained himself in the follow- 
ing manner : 

" Cambridge, October 15, 1850. 
" Dear Father : — * * * * I acknowledge the idea to be 
frivolous. If it were not so, it would not have answered my 
purpose, which here was ridicule. To be sure, ridicule does not 
properly belong to Forensic, which, in the strictest sense of the 
word has to do only with argument. But as I regard the ques- 
tion of a new translation of the Bible as scarcely worthy of 
grave discussion, and totally unworthy of Forensic, I thought, 
after I had condescended to enter into a serious argument, I 
might indulge somewhat in ridicule ; not only as more suitable 
to the question, but as serving to break the monotony which a 



445 

composition is apt to assume when carried on wholly in the 
serious style. What better suited to a subject which we should 
approach with reverence than to associate it with another which 
every one will allow to be ridiculous and absurd, yet which is, 
in reality, thus attended with advantages ? " 



Robert inclosed, also, to his Father, the Letter addressed to 
the Eev. Dr. Stuart (page 21), requesting his opinion as to the 
propriety of sending it. The Father replied that the difference 
in age rendered it inexpedient, though it would be perfectly 
proper to express his sentiments through some public channel ; 
and, accordingly, his Father immediately handed the Letter to 
Mr. Bryant, of the Evening Post, without any farther consulta- 
tion with his Son. 

The following correspondence, in relation to that subject, 
discloses Robert's habitual disposition to yield his contemplated 
action to the wishes of his proper advisers, while he sustained 
his own judgment until convinced of its error : 

"Cambridge, June 25, 1850. 

" Dear Father : — * * * * I was much pleased to think 
you liked my letter to the Professor ; but I really must say that 
I cannot view the sending of it in the same light as you do with 
regard to age. 

" There is no one perhaps who venerates age more than I. 



446 

But I think that there is such a thing as false modesty, which 
forms no part of veneration. I think, also, poor must be the 
reasoner who is obliged to bring his greater age to the support 
of his logic, and tries to escape by charging his younger oppo- 
nent with ' the atrocious crime of being a young man! 1 * I have 
expressed my letter in terms the most respectful, while at the 
same time it is written in a dignified style, and one in which 
I have studiously avoided any inferiority on account of age. 
Logic holds itself amenable only to the tribunal of Reason and 
not to that of Time. 

" Still, as the propriety or impropriety of sending that letter 
is not at all a matter of logic, but one to be referred to age and 
experience, I shall abide by yours and Ma's decision ; but I 
should like to have you, before making that decision, consider 
what I have said in this letter, and see if you do not agree 
with me. 

" If I send it, I suppose I ought to sign my name, as an 
anonymous letter seems to me to have a sneaking appearance, 
and as if the writer was ashamed of himself. (See page 275.) 

" Your affectionate son, 

" Robert Troup Paine." 

Next came a letter to his Mother, in his usual alternate 
order of writing his Parents. 



* Robert bad misapprehended bis Father upon this point, as was immediately 
explained to him. 



447 



" Cambridge, June 27, 1850. 

"Dear Mother: — I was most happy to hear that Uncle 
E liked my letter, as I always set a good deal by his opin- 
ion, as I do likewise by yours and Pa's, and when the three 
coincide the weight is vastly increased, and I feel myself pretty 
well fortified. 

" I have no objections to the printing, if it should seem 
good to you three ; but I think you must have changed your 
minds on the subject, as I have received no paper. However, 
the mail failed us this morning ; it may be in that. 

" I am now writing a Forensic on the following subject : 

" ' Should the Free States, in delivering up fugitive slaves, 
secure to them the rights of the writ of Habeas Corpus and 
trial by Jury ? ' 

" It will be, when finished, nearly twenty pages in length. 
I shall ask permission of Prof. Walker to send it home before 
giving it in (permanently). 

" I have no more time to write, as the Forensic must be 
ready this afternoon. So good-bye. 

" Your affectionate son, 

" Robert Troup Paine." 

" P. S. Give my love to Grandmother when you see her, 
and tell her I intend to write her soon." 

The next following Letter concluded the subject. 



448 



" Cambridge, June 29, 1850. 
" Dear Father : — I was very happy to receive a letter 
from you last evening, and to learn that I may anticipate a 
visit from you on the 3d proximo. Tell Ma I am sorry that 
she cannot come along with you. 

" How I should like to take a look at your garden ! Ma 
writes very graphic accounts concerning it. 

" I have received the newspaper. I see but two mistakes ; 
the word another for one (see erratum), and the word promise 
for honor, which last, however, was probably altered before it 
went to press. Good-bye until the 1st or 3d. 

" Your affectionate son, 

" Robert Troup Paine." 

It will have been seen that Robert was a good deal attract- 
ed by chemistry and physiology. This proceeded as well from 
his love of Nature as of science ; and he applied his knowledge 
of these branches to a philosophical inquiry into the difference 
in the properties and laws which govern the two great King- 
doms of Nature. He was thus conducted to that enlightened 
view of the subject which led him to deprecate the evils 
which chemistry has inflicted upon the science of organic life. 
These remarks are intended to introduce an extract from a 
Letter dated May 24th, 1850, to enable him to show for him- 
self the early elevation of his scientific pursuits, and that he 



449 

frowned upon the doctrines of materialism. In that letter he 
says — 

" The Chemists appear to be getting a little bothered ; for 

Prof. showed us the other day a piece of apparatus for 

determining the relative quantities of heat given out by differ- 
ent kinds of fuel, and remarked that, in this way could be told 
the quantities of heat resulting front the combustion of different 
kinds of food consumed by different animals. But, said he, the 
amount of heat resulting from this combustion would be con- 
siderably less than that actually evolved by the animal. Now, 
said he, the question is, whence is this extra amount of heat ? 
For the solution of which the French Academy have offered a 
large reward ; ' but which solution,' he added, ' is probably 
wrapped up in the Laws of Vitality, into which we cannot 
penetrate.' " 

In another letter which quickly followed the foregoing, he 
says, — "I should like to know particularly if you received a 
letter from me dated May 24th, as in that I wrote something 
important about the Chemists. I did not put it into the Post- 
office myself." 

In another letter, dated June 19th, he recurs to the subject 
as follows : — 

" In your letter you say that my criticisms on Chemistry are 
just. I wish you would read my letter of May 24th again, and 



450 

you will see that those remarks are not mine, but those of the 
Professor ; and this constitutes their importance, as they are 
the admissions of a chemist, and show that they are coming 
round. 

" I was much amused by your account of Dr. Poppinjack, 
and also by that part of your letter where, speaking of our 
intended journey to the Lakes, you say 'we will penetrate by 
canals and railroads into the wild and unfrequented parts.' '' 

In connection with what is here said, it may be stated that 
his views in regard to the soul as distinguished from the body, 
and from all chemical doctrines, were such as have been advo- 
cated by his Father, and that, in a conversation with his Father 
but a short time before his death, he told him that he consider- 
ed his Work upon that subject incontrovertible. But, whether 
so or not, that was the opinion of the Child, and is now a conso- 
lation to the Parents. It may be said, also, that he was a firm 
believer in the literal interpretation of the Mosaic Narrative of 
Creation and the Deluge, and that it was a knowledge of this 
which led his Father to say in the foregoing "Work that, in 
event of his " failure to complete the Work written by him- 
self upon Theoretical Geology, the manuscript will be left to 
the disposal of his Son." 

As time rolls on, and memory freshens of the past, the Pa- 
rents can find nothing to add that will reflect any farther light 
upon one of the most startling events upon record. Perhaps 



451 

too little lias been said of Robert's application to bis studies as 
a probable tributary cause of bis insanity ; tbougb it may bave 
been sufficiently set fortb in tbe Rev. Dr. Antbon's Obituary 
Notice. Tbe following extracts of letters from Robert's Mother 
to bis Father express his habits of appbcation. The letters 
were written from Cambridge, and are dated Dec. 20, 1850, 
and Jan. 12, 1851 ; shortly before his death. 



" Robert does not seem to have many associates. He walks 
alone generally. The President remarked of him, that " he 
pursues knowledge for its own sake, and not for the distinc- 
tion it brings." (See Article 29, page 307.) " Robert says 
be studies more than any one of his Class. A sketch of how he 
is employed. Every minute yesterday, excepting the hour from 
half past three until prayers. After prayers, wrote in my room 
until eight. Then went to his room to write upon another 
Thesis until nine. Then bed. To-day, studied history here 
until half past nine. Recitation, half past ten. Returned, and 
wrote barf an hour by my side. Eleven o'clock, lecture ; twelve, 
recitation ; one, dinner. Then, until three, preparation for reci- 
tation. At three, recitation. Half past four, prayers. Then 
free until tea. In the evening, he will write or read to us, or 
attend some Society ; one or another of which he has always 
done except in two or three instances. For some of the Socie- 
ties he writes pieces, of various descriptions {Article 34, page 



452 

323 is one of them) ; but he often speaks before them extempo- 
raneously. He is never absent from recitations, and has no 
amusements but walking, conversation, and reading Shakspeare 
and Hume's History. Paley is one of his studies. He cavils at 
some of his propositions as not being sufficiently guarded against 
the attacks of the infidel." 

Thus fortified in mind, education, virtue, Religion, enter- 
prise, and youth, blessed in his friends, and with the brightest 
future before him, the Parents have sought, with great diligence, 
to ascertain if there were any cause that might have disturbed 
his happiness. But they have been unable even to imagine 
any. At the University he was treated in the kindest possible 
manner by the President and Faculty, and was a favorite with 
the Students. He had, also, other warm and generous friends 
around him. His Parents have no recollection of having denied 
him the gratification of a single wish. On the contrary, they 
were unceasingly devising means for promoting his happiness ; 
and in this they were not a little actuated by the pity which 
they never ceased to feel for the sufferings and privations which 
he endured in infancy and childhood. A statement, however, 
so unreserved, renders it proper to say that on one occasion his 
Father endeavored to persuade him to abandon a favorite wish. 
This was a desire, which sprung up about two months before 
his death, to be supplied with a horse at Cambridge for the 
mere purpose of exercise. The wish was conveyed to his 



453 

Father by his Mother, who was then at Cambridge. Nearly 
the whole of the Father's answer, which was addressed jointly 
to the Mother and Son, will be now given, as nearly the whole 
was intended to dissuade Robert from his project, and to pre- 
vent any feeling of disappointment ; as well, also, to convey 
renewed assurances of the great satisfaction entertained by the 
Father. It should be said, too, that this letter has been added 
to the Memoir since the Mother's death. 



" New- York, Dec. 31, 1850, 10 o'clock, P. M. 

" My Dear Mart Ann, and Dear Robert : — I have now 
on hand your three letters '(not Robert's), of the dates of the 
25th, 28th and 29th; and, as it will require a good while to 
reply to the contents of the whole, I shall not get through with 
my letter till next year. In the mean time, as the present is 
drawing to a close, I hope you may enjoy its departure, par- 
ticularly in a serenade, and be prepared to ' turn over a new 
leaf 

" As usual with me, I look upon the past with many thanks- 
givings, and murmur at no dispensations of Providence, which 
have always been, indeed, to my advantage. I contemplate 
suffering with satisfaction, so far as it concerns myself; while I 
have had an offset in the best enjoyments that could be allotted 
to man. The greatest of these has been all that I could desire 
in yourself and Robert ; and, as the next great blessing has 



454 



been the satisfaction which I have derived from iny literary 
pursuits, I must also connect Ma with them, on account of her 
own mind, education, similarity of taste, and the assistance she 
has rendered. I enjoy, too, my rejjutation, but more highly on 
Robert's account, though I have rather interrogated the future 
than the present. A new source of happiness is now rapidly 
opening, and that is the promise which Robert affords in the 
expansion of his mind, his knowledge, and virtues. I am ex- 
ceedingly gratified by your high eulogiums upon him, and I am 
sure we shall not be disappointed in the objects at which we 
have been striving. On the other hand, I hope he will have no 
occasion for disappointment in what he anticipates from us. I 
am sure that he will not in all things that may advance his 
knowledge and usefulness, and in pleasures of a tributary na- 
ture. Some of these, and the greatest, are not far distant ; such 
as travelling in foreign Countries, tfec. To carry out these great 
objects, a great deal of money is necessary; and we had better 
make, for the present, some sacrifice of minor pleasures that 
may be expensive, to meet the exigencies of Robert's progress 
in life. Now, all this, I suppose you begin to suspect, is pre- 
paratory to one of those small disappointments in anticipated 
pleasures which may be well endured for the sake of greater 
gain at a time a little more distant." " If a thousand dollars 
were wanted to secure him a high honor at Commencement, he 
should have the amount forthwith. Besides, I have promised 
him a horse in the fall, so that there will be only a short post- 



455 

ponement of a little pleasure. But, in this I may be mistaken, 
as horses have their various uses. To Eichard the Third the 
object was so important that any old nag would have brought 
his Kingdom. I have had patients buy them to travel half 
across the Continent, and their lives were saved by the pur- 
chase. Others buy horses to explore the country in pursuit of 
information, or for lucrative objects. Now, if a horse will pro- 
mote Robert's studies at Cambridge, or contribute to his stand- 
ing in his Class, I will get him one without any farther ado 
about it. As he, however, is the party most interested, he may 
not like to offer an opinion, in which event I will be entirely 
satisfied if he will brina: me a line from the President recom- 
mending the provision. Mr. Sparks is a very candid and ob- 
serving man, and Robert's kind friend ; and as Ma, among her 
pleadings in behalf of the horse, says that many of the students 
are supplied with horses, the President must certainly know 
whether they are tributary to education and rank. But I 
would not make this a requisite, but for the reason I have 
stated. There was a time, in Robert's Sophomore year, when I 
thought his health might be benefited by riding on horseback, 
and I then wished to send him a horse from this City ; but he 
considered walking more useful." 

His Mother replied that Robert was amused with the letter, 
and heartily abandoned the project. 



456 



A DESCRIPTIVE ALLEGORY. 

The following Poem, if it may be so called, is not supposed 
by its Author to possess any other merit than that of a descrip- 
tive character applicable to its subject. It was an accompani- 
ment of the Allegorical Picture, designed and executed by 
Robert's Mother, and intended to represent the progressive life 
of the Youth, and his faultless character, exactly as it was re- 
garded by his Parents. They could in no other way so clearly 
and fully convey to him, and perhaps now to others, the senti- 
ments they entertained of the extraordinary purity of his whole 
life. But, it was as much the simplicity of his character, and 
his affectionate nature, which suggested a tribute on his attain- 
ing twenty-one years, that might not have been otherwise ap- 
propriate to his age, talents, and education ; and it is obvious 
that the last event of his life has alone prompted the exhibition 
of the Picture or the Poem to his Friends. For that reason, 
and as explanatory of the allegorical group of Flowers, and in 
the hope that the sentiments, which are intended to represent 
his youthful mind, may prove attractive to the young, the 
Father is inclined to connect the Poem with the Essays of his 



457 

Son, that it may go with those in the fulfilment of his objects. 
It is but just, also, to state, that, what is said of " Wild Oats " 
was purely playful, and that its natural contrast with the rest 
was greatly increased by its entire want of application to the 
individual case. The closing stanzas were especially inappropri- 
ate, excepting in their general relation to the early period of 
life ; and so far the metaphor was necessary as an integral part 
of the Design, and to relieve the more sentimental parts. The 
mournful event, too, which leads to this connection of the Poem 
with the Memoir, imparts to these stanzas an undesirable effect 
which did not attend them before. They always grated, how- 
ever, upon his Parents ; as the general tenor of the poetry 
expresses their habitual feeling, and what they had often ex- 
pressed to others, that a solemn mysteriousness surrounded 
their Son during his infancy and much of his childhood, both 
as to his piety and the preservation of his life. 

It will be observed that the associations are not so much 
suggested by the arbitrary system known as the " Language of 
Flowers," as by the popular names, many of which have their 
origin in the uses, or in the supposed mystical virtues of plants. 
This principle, indeed, pervades the allegory, as the names are 
generally sufficiently significant ; or, when otherwise, some par- 
ticular characteristic of a plant suggests the comment, or is asso- 
ciated with what the name implies. A few explanatory notes 
are added. 

The group of flowers is reduced to one-fourth of the natural 



458 

size. A single copy, however, of a folio edition of the Memoir 
has been printed, in the hope that the original painting may be 
preserved in the Library of Harvard University. At the end 
of that volume will be bound many of the original manuscripts 
both of the Essays and Letters written by Robert, as the best 
mode of preserving such relics as are most valued by the 
Parents. 

The flowers were collected by his Father at Wells' Beach, 
Maine, from October 1st to the 10th. While this and the 
painting were in progress, Robert was making a solitary tour 
among the Lakes and Mountains of Maine, where he stopped 
for a day or two at a Fanner's in the township called Letter B, 
on the border of Lake Umbagog, and where he met with an 
Artist sketching the romantic scenery. 

Eleven days before his death (the day of his departure from 
New- York to Cambridge — see page 65), he addressed a letter 
to that Farmer, desiring him to deliver some message to one of 
his neighbors, and apparently, also, to make an arrangement 
for another visit to that region. An answer was returned to 
Robert at New- York, and was received by his Parents at the 
time of his death.* It is inserted here to show the nature of 
his deportment in the humble walks of life, and how his amia- 
bility commanded, at once, the lasting esteem of all. No gen- 

* It may not be inappropriate to refer to this, and to other coincidences which 
will probably attract the attention of readers, and to the preservation of all his writings 
and letters, as remarkable in their relation to the objects of this Memoir. 



459 

eral statements can unfold the character and disposition of a 
man in any comparable degree like the internal evidence which 
is afforded by such testimonials as the following. (See page 
332.) 

"Letter B, Maine, March 3, 1851. 
"Dear Friend: — I received your letter of February 26th 
and read it with much pleasure. We are all well, and have 
enjoyed good health ever since you were here. My wife often 
speaks of you ; also Charles. He and sis grow like weeds ; 
always well. Sis can run alone, and is into every thing. I 
want you to come to Letter B once more, and explore the 
Lake. We have had rather a mild winter here, but I have 
not seen any violets yet, but expect to see them soon. There 
is only four feet of snow here now, for we have had two or 
three rains lately that have settled the snow nicely, and I think 
spring is near. 

" My wife has done the errand to Mr. G , as you request- 
ed. He was much obliged, and would like to see you once more. 
He and I will wait upon you any other time than haying. 
Come, if you can, and as soon as you can, and stay a month. 
You shall have the little bed-room. It is plastered now. Write 
soon, and I will endeavor to be punctual in answering. 

" Respectfully yours, 

«A W. S ." 



460 

The foregoing letter illustrates, also, "by its familiarity, the 
former part of a statement which occurs at page 7, namely — 
" And now began a display of that remarkable combination of 
the child and the man which distinguihsed his whole subsequent 
life," and serves to interpret, in a measure, the motives which 
prompted the allegorical group of flowers, and why the Youth 
himself is made to relate the story. 

This child-like feeling was so constitutional with him, that, 
although antagonistic to his unfailing dignity in his intercourse 
with his seniors, he was entirely unconscious of the fascinating 
simplicity of his nature ; and even the occasion to which the 
foregoing letter refers supplies an instance in illustration, as 
shown by the following extract froni a letter to his Parents, 

written while at the house of Mr. S , in which he overlooks 

the principle within himself, and carries the whole to the social 
disposition. 

" End of Creation, Aug. 13, 1850. 
" Dear Father : — Here I am with Umbagog full in view 
from the room in which I am writing. Came down safely from 
the top of White Cap (a mountain), from which I wrote a letter 
to Mother, and another to Grandmother. Had a most delight- 
ful ride yesterday afternoon over the mountains, and some most 
beautiful scenery. It is most delightful here, and seemingly 
the perfection of Earthly bliss. The people around this region 
are all politeness and sociability. Mr. S , with whom I put 



461 

up last night, seemed as glad to see me as if I had been his own 

son. You know what this is to travellers. I am now in ' Letter 

B,' at Mi*. S 's, but shall go over this morning to Merril, 

1ST. H., on the other side of the Lake, where I shall commence 

operations again. Went yesterday morning to Friar's Halls, a 

chasm in the rocks in a wild wooded mountain, through which 

falls a stream of water, some fifty feet, into a basin thirty feet 

deep ; quite wild. 

" Your affectionate Son, 

" Robert Troup Paitste." 



Robert devoted nearly a fortnight to this excursion, and 
was with his Parents about a month more at Wells' Beach. 
Here he employed himself much in reading History, waiting 
upon his Mother, and in promoting the happiness of many chil- 
dren who had come with their Parents to this summer retreat, 
and were also stopping at Mr. Titcomb's most agreeable "Atlan- 
tic House." While here, the attention of strangers frequently 
turned with admiration to the contrast between Robert's intel- 
lectual conversation and dignified manners, and his frolics with 
the children upon the beach ; particularly by the abruptness 
with which he would sometimes abandon a discussion upon sci- 
ence or Nature at the call of " Robert ! Robert ! " as it came 
from his little favorites without. In vain, too, did their Parents 
chide them for calling and addressing him in that familiar 



462 



manner. This disposition continued to display itself up to the 
evening before his death. (See Mrs. Clarke's Letter, page 81.) 

The remarkable versatility which the foregoing letters and 
statements are intended to illustrate was so ingrafted upon the 
nature of the Youth, that it may reach, in its import, beyond 
the object which is here contemplated, and may connect itself, 
constitutionally, with that sudden aberration of reason which 
led to his death. Something analogous, too, will be seen in 
an undefinable warmth of feeling, and sometimes of language, 
which appears in some of his most logical essays, and in the 
sudden transitions in his Article upon the Christmas Holidays, 
where he repeatedly passes with abruptness from his religious 
acts and infusions to his amusements and their description, and 
vice versa. With all of which, however, in making a just anal- 
ysis, should be connected his logical mind, soundness of judg- 
ment, and erudition, his complete exemption from credulity, 
bigotry, and superstition, and his perfect purity and happi- 



ness. 



As showing, also, how deeply founded was his child-like 
amiability (which his Parents admit is a trait in his character 
most valued by them), he refers, in one of his Letters to his 
Mother from Cambridge, to the delight and advantages he had 
derived, at an early age, from the perusal of Mr. Goodrich's 
publications for the benefit of Youth, under the title of " Peter 
Parley," and declares his intention to call upon the Author, 
who resided not far from the University, and express to him 



463 

his gratitude for the entertainment and services he had thus 
rendered him. This characteristic extended to every thing ; 
and, as has been already seen (page 56), constantly displayed 
itself, and to the last, in the solicitude which he manifested, in 
his correspondence with his Parents, about a squirrel, of very 
advanced age, which had afforded him happiness in his early 
childhood. In one of his letters, which is an example of the 
whole, he says, — 

" Have Ann take good care of Bunn, especially to keep her 
clean ; her spoon (from which the animal drank)., her mug, her 
plate, and her cage. The blinds ought to be open in her room, 
and the window open unless uncomfortable to you." 

In another letter to his Mother, dated October 8, 1849, he 
speaks of the tribute which he paid to the squirrel in a Foren- 
sic, which appears at page 301. 

" I handed in my first Forensic," he says, " last Thursday. 
Subject — 'Is the desire of property an instinctive principle?' 
I took the affirmative to a certain extent. I brought up some 
traits in my old squirrel in arguing upon the desire in its rela- 
tion to the necessaries of life. Thus, even in our hours of 
pleasure we often gain facts to illustrate great truths. 

" You spoke about the German. It is a beautiful language, 
and has very melodious rhyme. I close by two stanzas from 
Goethe. Pronounce as if it were English, and see if it is not 



464 

beautiful. It is entitled the Erlkeing. Scott has a fine transla- 
tion of it. 

" ' Ver reitet so spate dursh nasht unci Viud ? 
Es ist der Farter mit semen kind ; 
Er hat den Knaben void in dem Arm, 
Er fast in sisher, er halt in varm. 

" ' Mine Sohn, vas birst du so bang dein Gesisht ? ' 
' Sist, Farter, der den Erlkeing nisht ? 
Den Erlkeing mit Kron und Schwife ? ' 
' Mine Sohn, es ist em hebelstrife.' " 

" 'Who rides so fast through night and wind? It is the Father with 
his child. He has the boy safe in his arm. He holds him fast and keeps 
him warm. 

" ' My son, why dost thou so fearful hide thy face ? ' ' Seest thee not, 
Father, the Erlkeing ? The Erlkeing with crown and train ? ' ' My son, 
it is a streak of mist.' " 



As farther introductory to the allegorical group of Flowers, 
it may be said that Robert always wrote to his Mother on her 
birth-day. But, the spirit in which he wrote can be understood 
only from his own language. The following, therefore, are pre- 
sented as examples. 

" Cambridge, April 17, 1848. 
" Honored and respected Mother : — 

" ' Her children arise up and call her blessed ; her husband, 
also, and he praiseth her.' 



465 

"This day completes your 50th year. Fifty years have 
flown ! 

" ' Time, in advance, behind him hides his wings, 
And seems to creep decrepit with his age. 
Behold him when passed by. What then is seen 
But his broad pinions swifter than the wind ? ' 

" That God may grant you many more years of honor, 
health, and prosperity, sweetened by each other's society, is 
the prayer of your affectionate son. 

" A year ago to-day we launched our Husband and Father 
upon the mighty deep, uncertain whether we should again meet 
him this side of the vale of death, but trusting to Him Who 
numbereth the hairs of our heads. Through His Blessing the 
voyage was the means of improved health, and may it bring 
him many years of happiness. * * * " 



The following is the last of that series which he was " per- 
mitted " to write. 

" Cambridge, April 17, 1850. 
" Dear Mother : — Having been once more permitted to 
see the dawn of your natal day, I cannot refrain from taking 
up my pen to renew my wishes for your health and prosperity 
for another year, and commend you to the Care of Him by 
Whom even the very hairs of our heads are numbered. * * * " 



466 

Another Letter, not long before Ms death, contains, proba- 
bly, the only poetry he ever attempted to write. This effusion 
is, of course, preserved for the sake of its sentiments and feel- 
ing ; while the lameness of the poetry will serve to illustrate 
what the Youth says in one of his Theses (page 178) of trans- 
mitted resemblances. The letter, however, has all the marks of 
being hastily written. 

" Cambridge, July 12, 1850. 
" Dear Mother : — I was very sorry that Pa did not come 
on. But it was just what I expected ; for you can place no 
more reliance on doctors than on shoemakers. However, the 
time is but short before we shall all meet again. I shall go to 
Groton to-morrow, where I shall remain till Wednesday morn- 
ing. If you should start on that day, I will meet you at any 
place you may appoint. 



■to my mother. 



" Where'er I roam, where'er I stray, 

Through fertile vale, or o'er the sea, 
In life's rough ways, or easy paths, 
Still may my heart fly back to thee. 

" In future days, in life's bold strife, 
I would recall the placid hours 
You and I have spent together 

Iu home's, sweet home's blessed bowers. 



467 

" When 'with the partner of my joys 
I walk in even's ruddy glow, 
May rny warm heart that glow reflect, 
And to thee peace and friendship flow. 

" "When at the festive board I sit, 

And the pale wine is sparkling bright, 
And mirth and gladness flow around, 
I would fill to thee with delight. 

" When age my locks does silver o'er, 
May I to childhood's golden joy 
Fly often back on memory's wing, 
When on thy breast without alloy. 



" Your affectionate Son, 

" RoBEET TeOTJP PAINE." 



In a letter from his Mother to his Father, dated Cambridge, 
Jan. 7, 1851, two months prior to his death, she says of him : 

" He is the best Son to me that ever was ; kind, affectionate, 
always ready to do any thing at my suggestion, and always 
patient. I am glad that I came again to Cambridge, if only to 
have the demonstrations of the greatness of his mind and the 
nobleness of his character." 



468 



Of the following Poem it should be said, that Robert kept 
it entirely to himself ; probably having never shown it to any 
one, and the floral group to only his most intimate friends. 
His modesty, which even avoided praise, was the principal 
reason, and would alone have deterred him from exhibiting 
the Poem ; but it is not improbable, when his attention was 
thus drawn to the simplicity of his nature, that his other 
characteristic of dignified manliness could not well brook the 
contrast — • and this, especially, as he is the narrator. It is also 
due to him to say, that he expressed to his Mother a desire 
that the Poem should be restricted to his family. Perhaps it 
should be so now ; but his Parents think otherwise, and in 
this opinion advisers have concurred. 




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TTAiNED 21 YEARS OF AGE. AUGUST .0" 1850. 
PRINTED IN COLOURS BY JOS LA ,NG A C« UTH 66. FULTON S" »V 







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7. Iree-fiimicse 11. En.QhaBteps-SH|to-ShaQ£ 15 Arrow-jJeacL 

8. Dogs-iane 12, Bitter- Sweet 16 Heai-An 

9 . "Vervain. . 13. "Virgiiis-BGwer 17 SnakssSeaud.. 



20. lafe-Eveilastirig 

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469 



DESCRIPTION OF AN ALLEGOEICAL GEOUP OF FLOWERS 

DEDICATED TO 
EOBEET TROUP PAINE BY HIS MOTHER, 

ON HIS ATTAINING THE AGE OF 21 TEAKS, AUGUST 10, 1850. 

BY HIS FATHER. 



The Eose-bud decked my infant year, 

And true to Nature's holy law 

Has bloomed around my onward path, 

Inspiring hope, subduing fear, 

Or white or red, as Britain saw, 

Unite in one to conquer wrath. 

Thou emblem dear of all that's good, 
Unfolding Nature's richest charms 
Replete with virtues bursting forth, 
Though thorns surround thy graceful wood 
To warn us of life's many harms, 
I'll cherish thee as full of worth. 



470 

'T is wonderful, indeed, how all 

In Nature corresponds in end, 

And how what suits the fragile plant 

Or others stately tow'ring tall, 

In all their ends and aims will lend 

A moral thought and wisdom grant. 

A thousand things attend the Eose, 
From opening bud and balmy smell 
To prickles that protect the whole, 
Which one may use who only knows 
"What I shall now proceed to tell, 
As having all in my control. 



I learnt the secret when a child, 
And Nature gave it then in charge 
That I to others should impart 
The soft impressions or the wild — 
And thus the ends of life enlarge 
By stamping Nature on the heart. 

And now my friends, my prelude o'er, 
You'll please to listen to the play 
Where Nature holds the mirror up — 
By far transcending Thespian power 
Or all the power of Poet's lay 
Howe'er derived from Nature's cup. 



471 

Upon the Rose I long might dwell, 
Eegale you with its varied hues 
And various other things that show 
How this sweet plant on life doth tell — 
The whole of which were charming news 
From one so qualified to know. 



IT. 



But other Blossoms came along 
And mingled oft their fragrant charm — 
The Morning-Glory spread its bowl 
And drew around the birds of song — 
But quickly sped the Sun's alarm 
And cast a sadness o'er my soul. 



It seemed .the harbinger of day 
That summoned forth the Sun and all, 
Which then the Sun in envy killed 
As well as drove the birds away ; 
But though such things did all befall, 
The sun remained for what 't was willed. 



472 

But I remarked that every morn 
New Glories hailed the sunny rays, 
And then it seemed as though the Sun 
Became the parent of the born — 
For though so shortened all their days 
They never failed this course to run. 

Strange Emblem this of real life, 
And stranger still my doubtful dream, 
And still 't is strange how I apply 
This youthful charm to worldly strife, 
And find in that a cheering beam 
Which no rude fortune can defy. 



III. 

Sweet "Willow-herb, of blushing white, 
That modest tenant of the lawn, 
Lent an enchantment to my view 
And moved my heart with soft delight 
In welcoming the jocund dawn 
Of years as swiftly round they flew. 



473 

Sweet Willow-herb ! What merit thine 
To teach your modest ways to men ! 
For though obtrusive you may seem 
In such profusion as you shine, 
Your teaching then is only when 
With blushes you may teem. 

And so it is with all around, 

The Hare, the Girl, the Brute and Man- 

Where'er we turn our wandering eyes 

The more does modesty abound, 

The more of this in Nature's plan, 

So we the more abundance prize. 

Yet more than blushes muse the praise 
Of this and all the Flowers that bloom, 
For 't is their nature to sojourn 
Where solitude at last betrays 
A charm in being all alone, 
When beauties every one adorn. 



474 



IV. 

The splendid Orchis played its part 

In tricking out life's gayest day, 

Just as it decorates the swamp 

Where oft I've strayed like bounding hart, 

And wallowed through the miry way 

In chase of this bewitching pomp. 

Unmindful of the toil it cost 
Or other levies on my zeal, 
I've come at last by slow degrees 
To learn that labor 'is not lost 
In private or in public weal, 
And thus to sacrifice my ease. 



The Lily with its roseate head 
(Of meadow lawns the gayest pride) 
Presaged to my ardent mind 
A toilless road and downy bed, 
An ever flowing onward tide 
That leaves all troubles far behind. 



475 

What though "it neither toil nor spin,' 
Nor fail in aught of Nature's care, 
It is to man more kindly given, 
(As though a recompense for sin,) 
That with his Maker he shall share 
In working out his way to Heaven. 



VI. 



The Goldex-Rod essayed its day — 
But not in terror's fearful threat ; 
Its radiate plumage pierced my eye, 
And thus delighting found its way 
To depths of joy, and then as yet 
Endeared itself by strongest tie. 



While casting back this pleasant glance, 
And how all other rods were spared, 
It is not difficult to see 
How Childhood's hope and merry dance, 
With heart and manners so prepared, 
Should with the Eod of Heaven agree. 



47G 



VII. 

Say, towering Primrose, erst the while 
The proudest of thy joyful train — 
Say, on thy pride, doth waning age 
Adorn thy robe, improve thy smile — 
Or didst not teach that e'en 't is gain 
To leave awhile this earthly stage ? 

I saw thee carry out thy end, 
I saw thee fade, and droop, and die — 
But ere I wiped the tear of grief 
I hailed again my early friend. 
Thus tears and joy, I knew not why, 
Gave to my heart alike relief. 



So shall our mortal coil descend 

With all its frailties to the dust — 

To rise again in Heavenly dress 

If only we those frailties mend, 

And, like the Flowers, confide our trust 

To Him the " Sun of Righteousness." 



477 

" The winter 's past, the rain is o'er, 
The Flowers appear upon the earth, 
The singing birds abide their time, 
The turtle's voice is at our door," 
A Sun that gave to all their birth 
Takes charge of all in every clime. 



" No more the sun shall light thy day, 
No more the moon give light to thee," 
No more his rays shall cherish life ; 
Another Sun shall hold His sway, 
"An Everlasting Light to be," 
Withering, scorching worldly strife. 



That Sun shall dry all tears away, 
Or those alone of joy be shed ; 
No parting then shall rack the soul, 
No more the new-born flowers decay, 
But o'er the whole a Power shall spread 
A never-ending, safe control. 



478 



VIII. 



The Dog's-Bane held my fears in check 
By shielding me from canine harm, 
And thus it stretched its silent sway 
O'er all my thoughts, and at whose beck 
I felt at last no more alarm, 
And other terrors died away. 

Thus fancy cures its own conceit 
By shedding softly on the mind 
The bracing tone of safety's bliss — 
May no rude hand this power defeat 
By stern command or arts unkind, 
Which always show themselves amiss. 



ix. (') 

The Vervain, of Druidal fame, 
Beared stately up its purple bloom 
And pointed to the Hosts of Night 
As guardians of my tender frame, 
And threw its magic o'er the gloom 
In which mysterious Sprites delight. 



479 

I tasked thee in thy name to know 
The secret Nature of thy power 
Which made thee sacred in the past ; 
But Amulets will better show 
The rule they hold o'er evil's hour 
Through the long length of time they last. 



Oh ! sweet illusion of the child ! 

As all the castles built in air 

That stretch their reach to highest heaven ; 

Though stamped by reason as the wild 

Bewitching bait of pleasure's lair, 

It serves the future as a leaven. 



Should storms impend, or troubles lower, 
Or fortune frown, or ills attack, 
Or, worse than all, the lovely fair, 
I stdl will seek the Virgin's-bower, 
Or with good speed will hasten back 
To my old castles in the air. 



480 



And oft does memory fondly dwell 

On Mad-dog- scull-cap's dreamy hour, 

So full of promise to the ear 

That nought but reason can dispel 

The wild illusion of its power — 

Or what from Doctors we do hear. 



Thy helmet, too, that much I ween 
A " signature " to all has been 
Of all the doctrines of thy skill ; 
For I remember it did seem 
As though a safeguard to all men, 
And so became the Doctors' pill. 



XL C) 

Enchanter's Nightshade wove its spell 
And held me in its mystic sway, 
Though mostly so at evening's shade, 
Or when the Curfew tolled its knell. 
Other Genii ruled the day 
And other contributions made. 



481 

My dreamy sleep revived the day, 

And painted deeply Nature's hues, 

From whence I roamed to Heavenly scenes 

And mingled in Seraphic play 

Among the stars or grander views — 

And so I learnt what Nature means. 



Thus all commingling as they bloomed, 
All harmoniously conspired 
To hasten on what most we prize 
But to an early grave is doomed ; 
And yet it leaves us all inspired 
With views that lay beyond the skies. 



XII. 

But Bittee-Sweet was always near 
To check in time my buoyant hopes, 
And faithful to its gentle powers 
It prompted oft a generous tear, 
And pointed out the dangerous slopes 
Concealed around by other Flowers. 



482 

It whispered softly in my ear 
The worth of sorrow here below 
And all life's great diversity ; 
Nor failed in aught to render clear 
What very few appear to know — 
The "jewel of adversity." 



But more than all, it leaves a stamp 
On all the plans of later days ; 
While hope and fear, and grief and joy 
Become alike a guiding lamp 
Throughout the many doubtful ways 
Which otherwise our lives annoy. 



xni. 

My glowing fancy thus was tuned 
As days and nights rolled softly on, 
And o'er the whole the Virgin's-Bower 
Its graceful ringlets twining plumed — 
From many a Nymph by Cupid won 
And rendered sacred to this Flower. 



483 

Hail, lovely Bower ! so dear to me 
When girls and I encamped beneath 
Thy climbing, curling, bending boughs, 
To latest life I'll worship thee 
And thou shalt be my wedding wreath, 
Should e'er I swear eternal vows. 



XIV. 

In Loose-Stbife, too, I took delight 
As ever and anon it strove 
To join Wild-Oats in lots of fun, 
And laughed to see their rueful plight 
When caught in nets that each had wove 
To trip the other as they run. 



And well I mind how skilful Oats 
Disarmed me of the mirth I made, 
Whene'er it failed to win the game, 
By pointing out the sundry moats 
That shew how much of care I paid 
To guard myself from Oatses fame. 



484 

And well to heart I'll lay the hint 
Of doing what I would have done, 
And try to practise what I preach 
And yield to others without stint 
The fruit of lessons I have won 
When striving hard Wild-Oats to teach. 



XV. 

The Arrow-Head pricked up its ears 
And roused me to the sportive field, 
Or pointed out where honor lies — 
But changed the scene in after years 
And taught me how itself to wield 
In shooting folly as it flies. 

So wisdom blends itself with youth, 
And draws upon its glowing zeal 
To wing its own majestic way 
In search of happiness and truth, 
Where all may soar and all may feel 
Still greater bliss than Childhood's day. 



485 

And still I turn to Arrow-Head 
When buoyant Hope takes on the dream 
Or Pleasure dances round my ways, 
And by its index would be led 
To things more real than they seem 
When lighted up by sunny days. 



What though an emblem of the field 
Where Death and Havoc ruin rule, 
'T is only Nature's guide for all 
To wear alike a harmless shield 
And be prepared in Flora's school 
For great events as well as small. 



XVI. («) 

To soothe and mitigate disease 
All-circumspicient Heal-all watched, 
Ordained to Nature's highest charge ; 
And thus I glided on at ease 
As if by Magic's wand were touched 
Or wafted in some Fairy's barge. 



486 

Thou gatheredst round my couch of ills 
The dearest friends I have on earth, 
And summondst all the healing plants 
From dale and meadow, plain and hills, 
Which thou couldst think of any worth 
To be thus ordered from their haunts. 



And I would mention one or two 
Which I remember bore their bloom — 
The Virgin's-Bower and Golden-Rod — 
But will not say 't was you or who 
That saved me from an early tomb — 
But this I know — by Grace of God. 

" The silver cord was nearly loosed, 
The golden bowl almost was broke, 
The pitcher scarce was made to hold, 
The wheel of life was slow at most," 
And Death seemed ready with his stroke 
Through many years — as I've been told. 



While thus thy watchful care instils 
A grateful sense of life prolonged, 
Thy head of eyes a moral yields 
Which he that watchfully fulfils 
Shall gain more valor than belonged 
To Argus with his hundred shields. 



487 



XVII. 

But Snake's -Head ruled the power to heal 

In virtue of an ancient right — 

Enchanter of the Art Divine ! 

E'en now a reverence I feel 

For snakes and physic, and delight 

To pay my tribute at their shrine. 

Nor may I yet dismiss the claim 

Of reverent thoughts to Childhood born, 

But farther say that Manhood's eye 

Discerns a God in Physic's aim, 

Who sends a balm for every thorn 

In every thing beneath the sky. 



XVIII. 



The Steeple-Bush is not forgot, 
Nor last nor least in memory's eye- 
Its hallowed name shall never cease, 
Whatever come, whate'er my lot, 
Howe'er temptations strongly try, 
A thankful feeling to increase. 



488 

To all who walk in Nature's ways 
Thy turret says that God is here ! 
And warms the heart with reverent joy 
To hail His Power and sing His praise, 
And yield to Him their manhood's tear 
As to the Flowers when yet a boy. 



'T was thus from infant life I've felt 
What sweetens most this natal day, 
The charm which holy thoughts have shed 
O'er all the blessings God has dealt, 
O'er all my buoyant, joyous way — 
For Thou, God, hast ever led. 



XIX. 



And thou, the gayest of the gay — 
Thou Caedinal of all thy tribe, 
Fit Emblem of the Virtues, too, — 
I'll cherish to my latest day, 
And hold thee up a lawful bribe 
When some fair damsel I may woo. 



489 

What other gains may swell rny tide, 
Or how o'erflowing pleasure's bowl, 
Howe'er enriched by aid of wealth, 
Thou Cardinal shall be my guide 
And lend enjoyment to the whole 
As virtue yields a zest to health. 

Old Harvard soon will send me forth 
From her rich halls of learned lore, 
Where once my Sires and kindred dwelt, 
And I must emulate the worth 
Which thou and they have laid in store 
For others' a;ood where mind is felt. 



Oh Harvard Halls ! Oh happy days ! 
I almost weep the future tear 
Which I foresee must drop for thee 
When thinking o'er thy charming ways, 
Or as I turn the listening ear 
To joys that ne'er again will be. 



Yet other hopes and other joys 

I'll trust await the coming years, 

When Manhood stretches out its power. 

But these are not the charm of boys 

Unmingled with life's later fears, 

Though greater when some clouds may lower. 



490 



XX. C) 

On desert sands, or fertile plains, 
Life-Everlasting met my tread, 
As fresh in winter as in spring, 
And told me of unnumbered pains, 
And countless tears that must be shed, 
Ere manhood's spirit takes the wing. 



It taught me how to brave the storm, 

How winter's terrors to resist, 

How to attain an endless life, 

Eadiant with Angelic form, 

Though seen but dimly through the mist 

AYhich hovers o'er this world of strife. 



And thus it tempered joy and hope — 
Save all but joj-s and hopes to come — 
While Steeple-Bush, and Cardinal, 
And Arrow-Head, in terms bespoke 
The harmony which all, as one, 
United in the Carnival. 



491 

And every other hallowed Flower 
Enforced what Nature has ordained, 
That pleasure is to virtue given 
For eking out life's little hour, 
"While thus a prelude is obtained 
Of what awaits mankind in Heaven. 



Is virtue doomed to suffer wrong ? 
Then we its greatest worth avail, 
For then its charms beguile our woe 
As sung so oft in David's song, 
Or as the Flowers when crushed exhale 
A sweeter perfume for the blow. 

But most I pray ye to impart 

The generous zeal that bloomed to bless 

Your lovely Houbs a devoid of guile ; 

And Oh ye Hours ! inspire my heart 

With kindly feeling for distress 

And every where to light a smile. 

Oh ! teach me how to imitate 

The God-like Nature I adore — 

The Flowers that bloomed for us alone — 

And may I never prove ingrate 

For all the blessings yet in store 

As gems around the Heavenly Throne. 



492 

And Oh ! ye Flowers, that so exhaled 
A balmy sweet on Childhood's day, 
May I as you be true to Earth 
And all that Earth's Design entailed, 
True to my Soil though far away, 
And true to Her who gave me birth. 

What though ye Flowers my soul inspired, 
'T was thou, Oh Mother ! led the way, 
'T was thou who tuned the whole for me 
In all my ardent eyes admired, 
'T was thou who bent their gentle sway 
Ere I had strength to bow the knee. 

But memory scarce can trace the day 

When first my glowing thoughts were born 

Of Him Who thus delights our eyes. 

It seems as though they led the way 

Which other things did but adorn 

And taught me how the Flowers to prize. 



Stamped with Designs that far excel 
The wisdom of the wisest man, 
May not your other charms conceal 
The Being That doth in you dwell, 
And may I never fail to scan 
What those Designs so well reveal. 



493 

Strike down the infidel with faith ! 
Strike the clairvoyant with dismay ! 
The blaspheming spirit-rappers! b 
For thus the God of Vengeance saith 
Through your Designs, in full display, 
I will have no competitors ! 

Of such of ye as bloom unseen 

And waste your sweetness on the air 

A sainted vision I invoke, 

That I may prize what does but seem — 

A Sister, Brother c - — Spirits fair 

Ere I to infant life awoke. 

This debt for living all must pay 
And all to Heaven their souls resign ; 
But Oh ye Flowers ! 't is sweet to know 
That what is held as naught but clay 
To you the Laws of God consign 
Where friends may mingle here below ; 

And ere to realms of bliss they go 

Ye blend their tears in every tint, 

The same to ye of joy or woe 

As like they are where'er they flow ; 

And every hue is but a hint 

Of all the favors ye bestow. 



494 

This, for the pleasure of the eye, 
That, for the happiness of mind ; 
The former gazes on the frame 
And fills the mind with wonder why 
It doth not there the beauties find, 
But only in th' ethereal flame. 



'T is that we worship e'en on earth 

And just as that is innocent. 

The casement does but serve to hold 

The flickering flame, of Heavenly birth ; 

And this to me 's omnipotent 

That mind is cast in God's Own Mould. 

What other loss than this is felt ? 

The joy which beams from infant smiles ? 

The promises of buoyant youth ? 

The manly thoughts, or knees that knelt ? 

What dwell they on o'er thousand miles 

That separate the friends of truth ? 



Where lies the grief in infant cries ? 

Where, from the follies of the boy, 

Or from the vice of later age ? 

Not in the fabric, not our eyes, 

But the same thing which raised our joy 

When scanning o'er the brighter page. 



495 

And so it is when death befalls. 

The grave repels, the thing 's not there ; 

The thoughts, the words, the acts alone 

Engage our care, and Nature calls, 

In weal or woe, to seek it where 

Those thoughts, and words, and acts have flown. 

Ye sainted Ones ! So sweet on Earth 
As oft parental tale has told, 
I'll tune my thoughts to meet Above 
And mingle them in all the mirth 
Of all the sports that I may hold, 
That so my thoughts may turn to love. 

So may Superior Nature rule 
In other breasts as well as mine 
To render good what vice destroys, 
And make them wise that play the fool, 
All that are false to truth incline 
As honey-bees the flower decoys. 



Teach all the proud humility, 
Teach all the cowards to be brave, 
Teach all the selfish to be just, 
Instil in all sweet industry, 
Withdraw all terrors from the grave, 
Inciting - all to be the fiio. 



496 

Learn all the cruel to be kind, 

The fro ward how to curb the will, 

The quarrelsome to calm their ways ; 

May all to Nature be inclined 

While none to Nature's God are blind — 

And God may lengthen out their clays. 

There's naught that crawls that docs not feel- 
Aye, and life's pleasures, too, like us ; 
Who then shall wantonly destroy 
Or with the brute in aught shall deal 
To make that life a farthing worse 
Than what we 'd take as our alloy ? 

This duty done, the next to hail 
Are blessings scorned or thrown away, 
As pride may prompt, or folly spurn, 
Or reason in its sway may fail, 
And thus our highest trust betray 
Ere we its plainest dictates learn. 



With love of knowledge all inspire — 

That fountain of morality ! 

May all drink deeply of its streams, 

And as they drink yet more desire 

In prospect of mortality — 

Thus turning all from vicious schemes. 



497 

To all thy fond endearments yield, 
Nor give a pang where love may sway 
Bnt lead us all by love of thee ; 
To truth and virtue be a shield 
To render smooth life's stormy way 
While sailing o'er its dubious sea. 



May Temperance guide our bark along 
O'er the full tide of prosperous life, 
That no rude blast may raise alarm 
"When adverse Fortune strikes her gong. 
Then Fortitude shall stay all strife 
And all the Furies shall disarm. 



Those halcyon days of time expired 
When nought of sorrow did I know,' 
As fresh in fancy as in fact 
And full of magic once inspired, 
Shall prove a balm for every woe 
Though tossed by grief or suffering racked. 

But much I fear that pleasure's round 
May breed a selfish, thoughtless life 
Exuberant with boyish glee 
While blessings unalloyed abound. 
T' were well, I ween, if not so rife, 
And more of trouble I might see. 

63 



498 

Adversity is honor's post, 
And lie that towers above his grief 
And Cato-like maintains the truth, 
The God Who tries him honors most ; 
And hapless he who 's no relief 
From ceaseless pleasures of his youth. 



XXI. (•) 

While musing thus, came Touch-me-not 

Snapping at all the fairy host, 

And side by Wild-Oats took its stand. 

Oats pricked its sides — when such a rout 

Impatiens ne'er before could boast 

As then befell its magic wand. 



"What means," says Oats, "this hurly-burly ? "- 
Smoothing its beard with slyest skill ; 
But Touch-me-not stood firm its ground 
Till Oats grew bold and rather surly — 
For all the Flowers opposed its will 
And no excuse at all was found. 



499 

A Council held — they all agreed 

That Oats in mischief far excelled 

And often thwarted all their views — 

In Council, then, it was decreed 

That Oats henceforth should be expelled, 

And Touch-me-not should spread the news. 



500 



BOTANICAL NAMES OF THE PLANTS WHICH COMPOSE THE 
ALLEGORICAL GROUP. 



1. The Rose 

2. Morning-Glory. . 
8. Willow-Herb. . 

4. Orchis 

5. Wild Lilt. 

6. Golden-Rod. . 

7. Tree Primrose. 

8. Dog's-Bane. . 

9. Vervain 

10. Mad-Dog-Scull-Cap. 

1-1. Enchanter's Night-shade. 
12. Bitter-Sweet. 
18. Virgin's-Bower. 

14. Loose-Strife. 

15. Arrow-Head. . 

16. Heal- All. 

17. Snake's-Head. . 

18. Steeple-Bush. 

19. Cardinal-Flower. 

20. Life-Everlasting. 

21. Touch-me-not. . 



Rosa Vulgaris. 
Convolvulus Sepium. 
Spircea Salicifolia. 
Orchis Fimbriata. 
Lilium Canadense. 
Solidago Canadensis. 
Oenothera Biennis. 
Apocynum Cannabinum. 
Verbena Hastata. 
Scutellaria Lateriflora. 
Circcca Alpina. 
Solanum Dulcamara. 
Clematis Virginica. 
Lysimachia Ciliata. 
Sag it tar ia Sag itt ifolia . 
Prunella Pennsylvanica. 
Chelone Glabra. 
Spircea Tomentosa. 
Lobelia Cardinalis. 
Gnapltalium Plantagirieum. 
Imp>atiens Noli- ta ngere. 



501 



NOTES TO THE POEM. 



IX. o 

" The Vervain was employed by the ancients in religious ceremonies, and partic- 
ularly by the Druids. The celebrity which the plant obtained without possessing one 
apparent quality, or presenting any mysterious character, to arrest the attention or ex- 
cite the imagination, is, indeed, very extraordinary and unaccountable. Most nations 
venerated, esteemed, and used it. The ancients had their verbenalia, at which period 
the temples and frequented places were strewed and sanctified with vervain; and beasts 
for sacrifice and the altars were verbenated, the one filleted, the other strewed with the 
sacred herb. No incantation or lustration was perfect without the aid of the plant. 
It was in equal veneration among the Priests of Eome and Greece, the Druids of Gaul 
and Britain, and the Magi of India." The spikes of the flowers are numerous, long, 
and veiy erect. 

X.(») 

A "signature" to all has been. — An opinion once prevailed in medicine, called 
the " Doctrine of Signatures," that plants piossess certain physical peculiarities, either 
in the form of some of their parts, or their color, &c, which denoted their adaptations 
to diseases. Thus, the Mandrake (Mdndragora officinalis) having a very large root 
cleft in two parts below, and two off-shoots above, with its low stem and leaves, resem- 
bles the human form. For this reason miraculous powers were ascribed to it. Jose- 
phus says that Solomon had such a plant, by which he drove away demons. Pliny 
gives directions how to dig it up. — The juice of the Celendine (Chelidonium majus), 
being yellow, was used in cases of jaundice. It is, or was lately, retained in the Edin- 
burgh Pharrnacopreia as an ingredient in a compound decoction for that disease. And 
so of Liverwort (Hepatica triloba), from the shape and color of the leaves. — The 
seed-vessel of the Mad-dog-scull-cap resembles a helmet ; and hence the application 
of this plant to disease, under the " Doctrine of Signatures." 




502 

XI. (3) 

Enchanter's Night-shade {Cvrceea alpina), from Circe, the famous enchantress, 
in mythology ; in reference to the fruit of this plant, -which is covered with hooked 
prickles that lay hold of the clothes of passengers, as Circe is fabled to have done by 
her enchantments. 

XVI. (<) 

" All-circumspicient Heal-all watched? This low plant has a large cylindrical 
head studded all around with florets, of purple and white, which may be supposed to 
have the office here assigned to them ; and perhaps this was the origin, under the 
doctrine of " Signatures," of the supposed virtues of the plant as a panacea. 

xx. o 

Life-Everlasting (Gnaphalium plantagineum). A hardy, herbaceous plant, 
which, like many others of the genus, retains permanently its natural appearance 
after being killed by frost. It presents, therefore, all the appearance of life in the 
midst of rigorous winter. Hence its popular name. 

XXI. ( 6 ) 

Touch-me-not (Impatiens noli-tangere). "When the seed-vessel of this plant is 
slightly touched, it bursts with violence, and scatters itself and seeds with such instan- 
taneousness as to startle the young. 

Note a. — Hours [Hone). The three Sisters, Eunomia, Dice, and Irene, who 
were the same as the Seasons that presided over spring, summer, and winter, and 
are represented by Homer and other Poets as opening the gates of Heaven and of 
Olympus. 

Note b. — Those scions of infidelity known as clairvoyance and spirit-rappings 
were spreading widely in the community. The pretended raising of the dead, and 
audible conferences with them, grew out of the former novelty, and supplies a remark- 
able instance of the force of habit in relation to credulity as distinguished from Faith. 
The impostors, in both the cases, were numerous, and their victims multitudinous. 

Note c. — Elizabeth W. Paine, who died at the age of two years and four 
months ; and Elijah Paine, who lived about two weeks. 



503 



SUPPLEMENTARY. 



Since the foregoing Essays were printed, others of an early 
date have been discovered, which are distinguished by the same 
religious and moral sentiment ; and, as the manuscript of the 
following will be bound with the folio volume (see page 458), 
it is accordingly printed with the Memoir. It is without date, 
but the handwriting and orthography show it to have been a 
very early production, however it may be thought to denote a 
greater maturity of mind. But, it is far less an object with his 
Parents to set forth any precociousness of the Youth, than to 
illustrate his disposition and principles ; and this, they have 
supposed, is what will most interest the reader. The Theme 
which follows is upon a subject that governed all his opinions 
and conduct throughout his life. The same delicate regard for 
the right, the same spirit of charity and forgiveness, as appears 
in the Theme, mellowed all his thoughts and actions. His for- 
bearance and his friendships were the same as . manifested by 



504 

David when the grave had covered a foe and a brother — 
" Saul and Jonathan were lovely and pleasant in their lives, 
and in their death they were not divided. Ye daughters of 
Israel, weep over Saul, who clothed you," etc. His unfailing 
rule of action was — "Judge not, that ye be not judged; for, 
with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged, and with 
what measure ye mete it shall be measured to you again." He 
took the Injunctions and the Revelations of Scripture as he 
found them, and left the rest to Heaven. 



THEME— AETICLE LXIV* 

" ' JUSTICE. ' 

" Justice is the disposition of doing the same to every per- 
son in the same condition, whether friend or foe. For instance ; 
suppose two persons were convicted of the same degree of theft, 
the one to be a bitter enemy, and the other a very intimate 
friend of the Judge who is about to pronounce sentence ; it 
would be very unjust in him to condemn his enemy to prison 
a longer time than his friend, or to grant the latter more privi- 
leges than the former. It would only be right for him to con- 
demn them according to the greatness of the offence, without 

* Two Theses are numbered XIII. 



505 

any regard either to hostility or friendship, for then mercy and 
justice should reign ; mercy towards his enemy, to suppress the 
anger that might he kindled in his bosom by his dislike for 
him, as thus he might be induced to pronounce a more severe 
punishment than his foe deserves, and justice towards his friend 
to quell the inclination that he might have to favor him. 
Again, suppose two men in the State of New- York to have 
been condemned for murder, the one to have been pious until 
within a few years of the murder, but the other to have been a 
scoundrel all the days of his life ; how unjust would it be in the 
Governor to delay the execution of one, because he had previ" 
ously been a good man, and not of the other because he had 
always been wicked. He should only look at the offence for 
which they have been condemned, and not make the former 
righteousness of one to be a propitiation for his crime, for 
' when the righteous man turneth away from his righteousness, 
and doeth that which is evil, his good works are not remem- 
bered with God.' If, then, this saying is so perfected with the 
Almighty, ought not, at least, some trace of it to be found in 
the creatures of His hand ? 

" How merited was the royal and godlike epithet of the 
Just by Aristides, who wished rather to be just than to appear 
so, and who opposed both friendship and favor, resentment and 
hatred, in behalf of what was right. Was it not he, who, on 
one occasion, when a criminal had been accused, and the Judges 
were unwilling to hear his defence, stood forth and prayed 



506 

them that the prisoner might be allowed to speak for himself 
and to enjoy all the privileges of the laws ; and, at all times 
did he not strenuously exert himself to have justice done to his 
fellow-beings ? His title was royal, because it was one above all 
others that man could acquire, and godlike, because Justice was 
one of the great Attributes of God ; for by that He has ruled, 
by that He rules, and by that He will judge all the world. 

Robebt Teoup Paine." 



507 



POSTSCRIPT. 

Before the printing of this Memoir was completed, one of 
the Biographers was restored to the Child who had been so 
recently withdrawn from her affections. She died on the 10th 
of January, 1852, of congestion of the brain, of about three 
weeks' duration, at the age of 53 years.* 



* Mrs. Paine was the daughter of Ezra Weeks, Esq., a distinguished Architect in 
this City, and who, for many years, took a very active part in promoting its various 
interests. Besides those which related to his particular avocation, he was, for a long 
period, one of the foremost in the Vestry of Trinity Church, where his counsels ex- 
erted great influence ; for many years one of the most efficient Governors of the New- 
York Hospital ; a member and liberal patron of the Academy of Fine Arts ; a mem- 
ber of the Lyceum of Natural History ; Vice-President of the New England Society ; 
the first President of the Dry Dock Bank, &c. Indeed there were very few public 
enterprises in which he did not participate actively. He enjoyed the confidence and 
friendship of the distinguished men of the City, Alexander Hamilton, Eufus King, 
Robert Troup, Fulton, <fec. But what should be particularly noted was his inflexible 
probity, his indomitable industry and perseverance, and the piety of his latter years. 
But, most of all is the writer prompted, in making this brief sketch, by his sense of 
obligation to the Parent for the opportunities of education which he bestowed upon 
his children. Their intellectual culture was the leading object of his ambition till 
they became independent of his care. He died in the City of New- York in June, 
1849, and his death was the immediate occasion of that display of alarm which may 
be seen in Robert's letters written at that time, and which may have left a permanent 
impression upon his brain. 



508 



It remains for the husband to pay no ordinary tribute to 
her memory ; for it would be difficult to find an example of 
greater intellectual and moral excellence. To a mind of the 
highest order, accomplished by the best advantages of educa- 
tion, reaching to the Latin, French, and Italian Classics, and an 
ardent devotion to science, literature, and painting, there was 
united the inexpressible charm of all the domestic virtues, 
which rendered her a fountain of usefulness and happiness to 
her family. No mother was ever more watchful and devoted, 
no wife ever more conducive to the well-being of a husband. 
Although the subject of unceasing infirmity of health for more 
than twenty years, and often during that long period suffering 
violent attacks of bilious remittent fever, few women, if any, 
have been more useful within the domestic circle. Her devo- 
tion to her children was, indeed, natural for a benevolent and 
cultivated mind ; but the husband feels it difficult to express 
the constant sacrifices which she made, especially of health, to 
facilitate his pursuits, and how much he was thus aided in his 
avocations. She accompanied him in many of his scientific 
labors, not only from an earnest sympathy, but from a love of 
philosophy. And here it may be said, that these inquiries were 
the more inviting to her as they constantly opened to her ad- 
miring view an accumulating proof, and a deeper realization, of 
the dependence of all things upon an Infinitely Beneficent and 
Almighty Being. She had been taught that " a little philoso- 
phy incliueth man's mind to infidelity, but that depth in philos- 



509 

opliy bringeth man's mind about to Religion ; for, while the 
mind of man looketh upon the second causes scattered, it may 
sometimes rest in them and go no farther, but when it behold- 
eth the chain of them confederate and linked together, it must 
needs fly to Providence and Deity ; " and she was early admon- 
ished by such observers as Bacon, that, " learned times, especial- 
ly with peace and prosperity, are most conducive to infidelity ; 
for troubles and adversities do more bow men's minds to Reli- 



Another conspicuous trait of her character was an elegant 
refinement of taste. This led her to the perusal of the best 
literature, and to avoid the frivolous. It was also manifested 
in a great admiration of Nature, especially the beautiful or sub- 
lime. Her pencil was ever active in delineating the scenery 
which met her view in her many journeys in the Northern 
States ; and the series of landscapes, and hamlets, and villages, 
which were thus depicted, formed, as it were, a continuous jour- 
nal of her travels. Her skill in this respect was also tributary 
to useful purposes, among which there remain nearly two hun- 
dred paintings of the vegetable Materia Medica, executed in 
beautiful style and on an enlarged scale, for the assistance of 
her husband in that branch of his professorship. She rendered 
him, also, invaluable aid in reading and comparing with him 
all the proof-sheets of his publications, and by her critical 
remarks, and her sound judgment. There seemed, indeed, no 
end to this kind of labor, for she generally read over the proofs 



510 



as often as four or five times to insure at least typographical 
accuracy ; and she may be almost said to have died with those 
of her Son's Memoir in her hand. It is truly observed in a 
letter of condolence from one of her friends to her husband — 
" How beautifully has she used her own accomplishments for 
the furtherance of your interests, and how cheerfully turned she 
from her own pursuits to identify herself with yours. She had 
one single dream, and that of you. Every thing else was secon- 
dary and subordinate to that one idea." Her parental devotion 
was not less unceasing, and, as Robert says of the bees (page 
35), when her children wept she wept. 

Such, then, being her occupations, she had no leisure for 
pursuits which she might have carried to a degree of excellence 
that would have placed her memory upon the scroll of Fame. 
Her enjoyments were limited to these pursuits, and to such as 
were incidental to them ; and although a great sufferer from 
disease, and with an allotment of sorrow beyond the average 
experience, she regarded the past as having been crowded with 
blessings, and among her last words was a grateful tribute to a 
World which is designed in the best possible manner to intro- 
duce us to Eternity — that "her life had been a happy one." 
It cannot be said of her that, " In the day of affliction there 
was no more remembrance of prosperity." This was due as 
well to the fortitude with which she bore adversity as to the 
gratification of her fondest hopes ; and she realized, therefore, 
that the former is the greatest temporal blessing of the Chris- 



511 

tian Dispensation, as distinguished from the prosperity of the 
Old Testament by its moral and religious tendencies. 

She was as much an advocate of mental culture as her Son 
represents himself in some of his Essays, and encouraged ambi- 
tion in its pursuit of honorable fame. She saw that a principle 
so universal must be deeply founded in the great ends of Pro- 
vidence, and she saw, too, its exemplifications of usefulness 
throughout the history of mankind ; and, in the language of 
Robert, " that the good which is done by one and another may 
never cease to be useful and to increase with its age," and that, 
" although man is as a shadow that passeth away, he leaves 
something behind him of imperishable value, or, on the other 
hand, inflicts and perpetuates the greatest evils upon his race ; " 
(page 407.) But she was also impelled by a belief that a vir- 
tuous fame will follow us to the future World in proportion to 
the good which posterity may derive from the labors by which 
reputation is gained. And herein she saw a motive for surviving 
friends to convert,' as far as possible, the labors, and virtues, and 
worthy examples of the dead to the welfare of the living, as 
being likely to be registered in yet higher Mansions of Heaven 
in behalf of those who may be already there — something which 
may well take the place of the best intended supplications — 
something as consistent with Divine Justice and Mercy as it is 
agreeable to our own reason and benevolence. These senti- 
ments flowed as well from her respect for industry as from her 
enlightened and amiable mind ; and she repeatedly ejaculated 



512 

of her Son, that — " He died at his post ! " But her most fre- 
quent expression of contentment was, that, from his childhood 
he prayed " particularly for faith and trust in God," and that 
his prayers appeared to have been as fully answered as Solo- 
mon's desire for wisdom. (Page 17.) 

Her voluminous letters to Robert during his four years at 
Harvard University, and many antecedently, are elegant speci- 
mens of epistolary writing, and abound with the noblest pianci- 
ples and great tenderness. It is to be regretted that a selection 
of these letters would add too much to the extent of this Work. 
The following, however, must not be excluded, as it was address- 
ed to Robert on his 21st birth-day, while her pencil was engaged 
at the allegorical group of flowers, and Robert on his temporary 
absence. (Page 458.) 



" Wells' Beach, August^, 1850. 
" My deak Child : — For such will you ever be to your 
Mother, although even now I am writing to commemorate your 
twenty-first birth-day. That you will be ever a child to me, 
neither the progress of years nor distance can alter, and that 
you will prove an affectionate Son, I know. The artificial dis- 
tinction which the law establishes between a minor and one 
who has reached his birth-day of twenty-one, can have no con- 
nection with the tender relationship of Parent and Child. 
Whatever their relative ages, the feelings of each to the other 



513 

must remain the same ; the bond of affection must still continue 
unbroken and without diminution. I congratulate you most 
sincerely, my dear Robert, that you have reached this period 
with reputation unsullied, with character for all the virtues and 
all the attainments suitable to your years, in the opinion, not 
only of the world at large, but of those who know you and are 
interested in your welfare, and above all in the eyes of your 
nearest and your dearest. Your every good quality is cherished 
deeply in our hearts as an earnest of future good and respecta- 
bility. The point that you have already attained is a foundation 
upon which to raise a superstructure whose summit may reach 
to a height yet unthought of. "With so firm and broad a base, 
upon yourself now depends the fashion, style, and quality of 
what may hereafter be erected ; and, in looking around me, 
nowhere do I see one in whose power lies such a vast amount of 
materials to give solidity and usefulness and adornment to the 
edifice. Tl at all these various parts, so adapted to each other, 
and so easily combined to construct one harmonious whole, shall 
be allowed to waste by their gifted Proprietor, I cannot for one 
moment anticipate, when the reverse of the picture presents 
such a glowing aspect, beaming with the brightness of culti- 
vated talent, triumphant genius, high principle, and unfeigned 
Religion. Let the picture I am contemplating be your her- 
aldic device, be your coat-of-arms. With it, you may defy the 
changes of fortune ; for the frowns of the world you could 
never then have. With it, wherever your lot may be cast in 



514 

the civilized world, you will command respect, attention, and 
be the esteemed among men. 

" Good resolutions, I have no doubt, have had a share in 
your thoughts this day, although solitary in the middle of Lake 
Umbagog. We were happy to learn from your letters that you 
were finding so much pleasure, and particularly that you were 
' as happy as a clam.' Continue to keep us informed of your 
adventures, and let us have time to see you a little more before 
the Term commences. Pa's health has improved much. He 
writes, also, to-day. I am improving daily, and find it still 
very pleasant. Be careful, dear, how you risk yourself in 
leaky boats, &c. &c. &c. All you know here are constantly 
inquiring after you. 

" Good-bye, my dear Son, and may Heaven preserve you to 

the comfort of your affectionate 

" Mother." 



The following unfinished letter will serve, also, as another 
specimen of her habitual mode of addressing her Son, and will 
be interesting, perhaps useful, for the reflections it may awaken. 
She had already written him a long letter the same week, and 
wrote the following on Saturday, the day of his -death ; but, 
from feebleness of health, she laid it aside for completion on 
Monday. Before, however, she could resume it on that day, 
and while sitting for her portrait as a memorial for her Son, the 



515 

news of the bereavement involved the letter in the common 
wreck of the " imaginations which are there shadowed forth of 
what will be." 

" New- York, March 8, 1851. 

"Dear Robert: — As I feel a sort of yearning to write you, 
I may as well indulge it ; * particularly as I am alone, and have 
been thinking much of you to-day — thinking how pleasant it 
would be to have you coming in occasionally. But that time 
will come, and my imaginations are but the shadowing forth of 
what will be. 

" I have been amusing myself in reading Mrs. Osgood's 
poetry. It is very beautiful. There is a little piece called the 
' Language of Gems,' from which I must quote a couple of 
verses. 

" ' The diamond emblem of Genius would seem 

In its glance like the lightning, wild, fitful, divine ; 
Its point that can pierce with a meteor-gleam, 
Its myriad colors, its shadow and shine.' 

" ' And more in that magic, so dazzling and strange ; 
Let it steal from Apollo but one sunny ray, 
It will beam back a thousand that deepen and change, 
Till you fancy a rainbow within it at play." 



* This is singularly expressive of an undefinable solicitude which was awakened 
by the several little incidents mentioned at page 147, and is one of those internal 
proofs of an anxiety which it was as impossible to describe as it was to assign the 
cause ; nor was any allusion to it made to the Father. 



516 

" I never met with a more beautiful idea than that contain- 
ed in the last line. It is worthy of being treasured up. 

" Much variety, originality, and fancy, combined with great 
delicacy and purity of thought, constitute the charm of these 
pieces. This writer was the wife of Mr. Osgood, who is paint- 
ing my portrait. She died last year. The portrait has been 
seen and approved by your Father and Uncle. I much wish, 

whenever you see Mrs. , that you would inquire if she has 

any knowledge of Mr. C O , the painter, who has your 

Father's portrait. In that way you may get some clue to it. If 
you should hear any thing of it, I should like to know it." 



The writer draws reluctantly to a close. He has endeavored 
to limit himself in this Notice of the deceased to the privilege 
afforded by her connection with the Memoir of their Son, while, 
also, an opportunity is supplied of exhibiting the advantages 
which the Son enjoyed in the never failing watchfulness and 
example of one who was peculiarly qualified for the responsible 
duties of a mother. 

The ten months which intervened between the death of her 
Son and her own were spent in cherishing his memory, and in 
a happy preparation for the great end of her faith. She had 
been from early life a communicant in the Episcopal Church, 
and was thoroughly acquainted with the Scriptures. This 
became at once a fountain of great solace ; for her faith in all 



51? 

Revelation was as perfect as in her own existence. Grievous, 
therefore, as was the bereavement, it was received in great sub- 
mission, and yielded the peaceable fruits of righteousness. It 
was an unusual wreck of earthly hopes, which rendered her 
quiet resignation an affecting display of the power of Religion. 
These consolations, and the fullest conviction that the last act 
of her Son would not be imputed to him, but that he would 
be as ever the delight of her soul where no care Or sorrow will 
disturb the happiness of their mutual love, bore her along with- 
out the usual bitterness of so great an affliction, and enabled 
her, therefore, to look forward to an early death, not with the 
despair of grief, but with the bright hope of a Christian spirit. 
She indulged her imagination in all the prospective enjoyments 
of a future life which are so happily portrayed by Addison ; 
and she had but one regret, and that was as deep as it was dis- 
interested. But, in view of Eternity, her " sweetest canticle 
was — nunc dimitti^r 

The following letter, addressed to the Survivor while he 
was attending his venerable Mother* at Haverhill, in her last 



* The writer cannot again pass this name without expressing his deep emotions of 
reverence and gratitude. Next to his Parents, she was the most valued of Robert's 
friends ; and this note is in part designed to illustrate his veneration for virtuous old 
age. His ardent attachment to her appeared to increase with her years. He made 
her frequent visits, of forty miles from the University ; and this was mostly his recre- 
ation in Term time, and frequently in vacations. (Pages 65, 149.) She died as she 



518 

and fatal sickness, and displaying confidentially the deep re- 
cesses of the heart, may be an appropriate seal to this Me- 
moir. 

" New-York, May 26, 185$. 
" My dear Husband : — " Although you may not receive 
this letter before you shall have left Haverhill, it is an allevia- 
tion to my loneliness to write. I wish, too, to put upon record 
some things that have occurred to my mind. When I read the 
Bible, and as I read each one of its beautiful precepts, every 
time the conviction comes up that Robert kept this one ; then 
another — and also this, I say; then that ; and this, I will say 
to myself, he was most particular in regarding ; then another — 
ah, here, I say again, we see the cause of such and such actions 
and opinions, as they manifested themselves from time to time. 
Not six verses can one read but his Imasre comes forward to 
say — Did I not fulfil that Command, or adopt that Precept? 
Never is a sentiment to be found that is holy, or an elevated 



had lived, exemplifying the Christian spirit in its loftiest sense. With a highly intel- 
lectual and accomplished mind, and devoted to history and polite literature, her whole 
life was distinguished by habits of useful industry. She had no moments of idleness, 
even in her latest days ; and her labors were especially directed to the well-being of 
her family. One trait may be particularly stated, as unfolding the general constitu- 
tion of her mind ; in which she exemplified remarkably the union of great fortitude 
with great sensibility. She could have borne any calamity of life without failing, as 
the performance of a duty ; and yet she told the writer just before her death, that she 
had never been able to read the Parable of the Prodigal Son from beginning to end 
at one perusal, having always found its pathos peculiarly affecting. 



519 

thought, of which we can say — herein was Robert deficient. I 
feel, as it were, when I read, as if I had become Robert's Con- 
science — trying him by the high standard of Holy Writ; but 
never do I find him wanting. How beautiful is this ! Is it not 
worth a thousand years — for, 'an unspotted life is old age' — 
' for his soul pleased the Lord, therefore hasted He to take him 
away.' 

" I thought to-day, although it was a sad indulgence, I 
would go up into Robert's room among his books. I thought 
I would more fully realize having him near me by going there. 
The place is becoming sacred. I feel as if no person should 
enter there but such as reverence Robert ; and no one does, for 
I keep it locked. The place possesses a sanctity which I intend 
shall not be violated while I live. I found one volume of his 
Sunday records — texts, the Preachers' names, their remarks 
condensed, and often criticisms. No California gold-hunter 
ever seized a large lump of the precious ore more eagerly than 
I do these testimonials of himself. They seem to exist in all 
that he has left. Do not think, dear Doctor, I am very sad 
because I have thus written. Not so. I feel thankful that the 
Lord thus took him under His special care ; that he was thus 
ripe for Heaven. 

" Your affectionate wife, 

" Mart Akn." 



ERRATA. 



s 15, sixth line from bottom, for 37 read 38. 
25, eighth line from top, for another read one. 
34, fourth line from top, for mossy read mazy. 
116, in the seal, for Aincrr-E read Amtcitia. 

191, sixth line from bottom, for examples read example. 

192, second line from top, for Calvin read Fenelon. 

269, tenth line from bottom, for the interrogation a semicolon. 
352, five lines from top, for beam read beams. 
271, for ARTICLE XX. read ARTICLE XXII. 



521 



Since the completion of this Memoir, the following Letters, addressed by Robert 

to Mr. S , of Township Letter B, in Maine, (see page 458,) have been kindly 

forwarded by Mr. S , and they are added to illustrate still farther the remarkable 

amiability and affectionate disposition of one whose heart' could be thus permanently 
influenced by a very temporary experience of kindness and honesty in the solitudes of 

humble life. He boarded with Mr. S one week, according to a letter from Mr. 

S to his Father. These letters to a stranger serve, also, to show the deep sin- 
cerity of that refined sentiment, and the elevated feeling, which pervade many of his 
Theses, and how naturally it flowed from his pen on all occasions ; as in Articles 2, 3, 
5, 35. 

The Letter to which reference is made at page 458 was not among the number 
forwarded by Mr. S . The others will be included in the folio volume. 

ROBERT TO MR. S . 



"Boston, October 5, 1850. 

" Dear Feeend : — It was with much pleasure that I 
received your letter of the 3d September, which, however, 
did not come to my hand until about two weeks after date ; 
as I was not in Boston till that time. I am pleased to hear 
that you are all so well, and Charley and Sis have escaped the 
rash which was prevalent when I was there. 

" I should like, most exceedingly, to be with you, and 
should certainly go and spend a month or more, if I possibly 
could. I am very much engaged, and shall be so for some 
time to come. At Thanksgiving I shall be at leisure a few 
days, but as the time will be so short, I really do not know as 
I shall think it worth while to visit you until I can have a 
longer time to enjoy myself. I may, however, go ; if so, I will 
probably write you beforehand as to the precise time. 



522 

" I have been to hear Jenny Lind. The only description I 
can give of her singing is to say, that it is perfectly wonderful. 
She may well be called the ' Queen of Song.' (Page 48.) 

" What lovely weather we have had ! I do not remember 
so beautiful a fall for many years. 

" Remember me kindly to your wife, and kiss Charley and 

Sis for me. Also remember me particularly to Mr. G and 

any inquiring friends. So for the present, ' good-bye.' 
" Your affectionate friend, 

" Robert Troup Paine. 

" P. S. — Do not forget that beautiful name for your town 
— VmoosM? 

" Boston, November 16, 1850. 

" Dear Friend : — It is with much regret that I write that 
I shall not be able to visit you the coming Thanksgiving. It 
would not be possible to leave here until Tuesday night, Nov. 
26th, and should be obliged to be back the next Monday. I 
should therefore have only a day or two at the Lake, which 
would not be worth the journey nor the expense. 

" I had promised myself much pleasure at your fireside ; 
but I shall be obliged to defer it until a future day, when I 
can have much longer time to stay. 

" We have had a glorious Fall. The weather has been 
extremely mild and pleasant almost all the season. It is 
rather cool here at present ; but I suppose that you have 
snow at the Lake. 

" Remember me kindly to your wife and Mr. Of , and all 

inquiring friends, if there be any such. Kiss Charley and Sis. 



523 

Hoping that you are all in the enjoyment of good health, I 
remain " Your affectionate friend, 

" Eobeet Troup Paine. 

"P. S. — I suppose before long I shall be able to direct to 
' Vinoo-sTdJ instead of Letter B. I wrote you a letter in Octo- 
ber, acknowledging the receipt of your kind letter of Sept 3d." 

The next letter was from the Natural Bridge, Va., from whence he wrote two 
others, ahout three weeks before his death. (Pages 62, 126.) It explains some 
remarks in the letter of Mr. S relative to Spring, at page 459. 

" Natural Bridge, Va., Feb. 11, 1851. 

" Dear Friend : — I have at last found my way to one of 
the greatest curiosities of the world. The Natural Bridge is 
situated little south of the centre of Virginia. The stage-road 
goes over it. You approach it from the top of a hill, and in 
descending the hill you cross the bridge. When you are on 
it, you would not know that it is a bridge ; for, although you 
look down into a vast ravine on one side, yet there are rocks 
and trees on the other, so that you appear more to be upon the 
side of a hill. But, go below, and you have one of the most 
stupendous scenes you can imagiue. On both sides you have 
the wild abyss, winding its way until it loses itself among the 
surrounding hills, while overhead is the magnificent arch of 
rock, 90 feet long and 80 feet wide, stretching over the fearful 
chasm at a distance of 215 feet above the creek which rolls at 
your feet. It is, indeed, one of the wonders of the world ! 

" Since I left home I have also visited Weyer's Cave, about 
80 miles from here. This contains twenty-three rooms, and 



524 

extends under ground 1600 feet. When I see you I can give 
you a description of it. 

" I have also visited the Warm Springs, and the Hot 
Springs, in this State. They are both situated in glens of the 
Alleghany mountains, five miles apart. The temperature of 
the water of the Warm Springs is 98°. The largest hath is a 
round basin seven or eight feet deep, and 40 feet in diameter, 
which is always full. Perhaps nowhere else in the world can 
be seen such a quantity of heated water. It is an astonishing 
sight ! The water of the Hot Springs is 106° degrees, and will 
boil an egg. The volume of water, however, is not near so 
large as at the Warm. One hundred yards from the spouts of 
hot water there is a cold spring. 

" We have had a very mild winter this way, and to-day I 
found a wild violet. What would you think in Maine of a wild 
violet in February ! 

" Remember me particularly to Mr. G . Also to your 

wife and Charley, and kiss Sis for me. 

" I remain your friend and well wisher, 

" Robert Teotjp Paine. 

" P. S. — It would give me great pleasure to hear from you, 
and if you have time, I hope you will direct a few lines to me 
at 386 Fourth-street, New-York. 

" Have you named your town ? If so, I hope you have 
called it VinoosMT 



ERRATA — SUPPLEMENTARY. 

Page 458, ninth line from top, for October read August. 
" 518, fourth line from top, for 1852 read 1851. 



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